


A Lion Among Wolves

by CaptainTarthister



Series: Kingslayers [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Love, Rock Stars, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-02 01:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8647294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Jaime and Brienne shop around for a record deal and nobody is interested. The only offer would mean Jaime selling out as well as compromising what he had always held as unbreakable vows to rock music. He also finds himself in a chart face-off with the popular boy band Wolfboyz.It's a clash of pretty prince-wolves and one oldish, hot lion.





	1. My Blue Wench

**Author's Note:**

> A day in the life of our two lovebirds. Nothing happens much but there's smut.

Jaime was up at five-thirty a.m. to hit the gym. Hardhome was a twenty-four hour gym, famed for its juice bar, organic and vegan restaurant, and for honing the bodies of celebrities to gods. The rates were expensive to ensure this exclusivity.

After his return from the Quiet Isle, Brienne made arrangements to get his scrawny self back into fighting form with Sandor’s bigger and scarier-looking brother, Gregor Clegane. Gregor owned the gym and in his youth, was a varsity wrestler before becoming a bodybuilder. He garnered numerous medals for many years in the Weslympics and though retired now, he still held many world records. 

Gregor was massive and built like a mountain. His arms were boulders and the rest of him seemed carved from rock. He designed a program to improve Jaime’s endurance first before they worked on gaining muscles. Jaime’s diet and activity in the Quiet Isle resulted to a twenty-pound weight loss. He gained back fifteen in lean muscle. 

These days, his program was no longer as vigorous nor strict. He would rather go biking up the mountains or playing sports. He liked tennis and was a decent player. He and Brienne used to play tennis when he was with Kingsguard. If her red face and incredible legs were distractions back then, more so now. They had the court reserved for their use from five-thirty to six-thirty on Thursdays. But they didn’t spend the entire hour swatting balls over the net. There were times when they just fucked. Once, after a game, Jaime charged over the net and threw Brienne on the floor. They fucked as if crazed, with Brienne’s screaming climax echoed throughout the empty court. He had scratches all over his back and shoulders while she had bruises on her back, her hips. It was that wild.

Jaime forgot how amazing fucking was. Being on tour meant relationships were shot so he had to content himself with anonymous, one-night stands. When Cersei started coming along, fucking was out of the picture entirely. He couldn’t even muster enough arousal to jack off. 

After thirty minutes on the treadmill, Jaime began to lift weight. By then, familiar faces began to trickle in. There was the exotically beautiful Taena Merryweather, practically a mist as she was surrounded by a cloud of smoke that stank suspiciously of substances and thick, floral perfume. Marillon, the balladeer, nodded at Jaime as he headed for the cycling area. Gregor offered to spot for Jaime, praising him on his form and breathing.

He hit the shower afterward, changing into a faded pink t-shirt pilfered from Brienne’s closet some time ago and gray track pants. He drove to Brienne’s favorite café and bought half a dozen muffins, three blueberry and three gooey, dark chocolate chip. He skipped the coffee because his lady wench preferred her brew to be searing hot. 

Doing things for Brienne, as well as not doing what she wanted opened the door to a level of enjoyment he never imagined. His wench was never demanding and appreciated the simplest things. This encouraged him to do more for her because in return, he got sincere thanks, her sapphire eyes twinkling and her thick lips quirking in a crooked but sweet smile. Even something as taking out the trash at night got this response. 

But when she told him to, for example, keep practicing his music and writing songs even when he didn’t see the point as they just accumulated rejections upon rejections, he took pleasure in annoying her. Nothing annoyed Brienne more than idleness and her face was the color of tomato catsup when he bragged about still wearing pajamas at two p.m. He understood but it was fun. And a huge part of it was getting her to relent with kisses and putting her on her back on an nearby furniture. She accused him of manipulating her with sex. He grinned at her and declared proudly, “Yes. Of course.”

Sometimes they got into screaming rows. Neither liked to back down and as annoying and infuriating as it would get, it was also fun. Jaime never thought that having a loud argument with your lover could feel like this.

But Brienne was more than his lover. She was the keeper of his heart, the blue light in the dark, comfort during trying days. She loved him. Him. Jaime Lannister. The man whose last words to his sister was he had no wish to see her again. 

It wasn’t the easiest thing but Brienne finally managed to coax Jaime into seeking therapy. The Quiet Isle helped him with his addictions but his guilt was something he would have to battle on his own. Jaime was dubious at first at having to tell a complete stranger about things. She told him that was the advantage. Someone would be objective. 

Cersei had no love for Brienne and with his wench being the most transparent person around, the feeling was mutual. He could only imagine what Cersei had done, or said, for her to persistently demand that Brienne be fired. Her last night alive, when she had come on to him, plus her obvious jealousy of Brienne, added up to the possibility that not only was Cersei unstable. She was unhinged.

He drove back to his house, grinning at Brienne’s sensible sedan parked perfectly, straight and with enough space for her to maneuver and himself. He took the bag of muffins and let himself in the house. He whistled a fast upbeat version of The Lady Is A Wench while making coffee. Done, off he went to wake up his lady love. 

She was huddled under the comforter, the tips of her pale hair peeking out. Jaime grinned, kicked off his shoes and crawled back into bed, joining her under the blanket. She stirred, letting out a small sigh as he made himself comfortable. He threw an arm around her waist and kissed her behind the ear.

“Sun’s up, wench,” he whispered, loving the soft scent of her skin. He cuddled closer, his hand slipping under her t-shirt to squeeze her tits. No piercings. Pinching her soft nipple, he bit the tip of her ear gently.

“Noooo. It can’t be,” she moaned, pressing into his hand. 

“I’m afraid so,” he said, twisting her nipple a little hard. She whimpered, arching against him.

Jaime took delight in kissing and licking her as he continued playing with her tits. Maybe some men felt shortchanged when their lovers weren’t very full in the cup department but not Jaime. Brienne’s breast fit his mouth perfectly and she was so responsive when he got a little rough with them. He pinched and twisted her soft, long nipples until they peaked, drawing a sharp moan from her, her hips rubbing against his tented pants. 

He grinned when she protested softly at his hand leaving her to tug her pajamas down her legs. Jaime helped her lie on her back, watching as her eyes slowly opened and widen, as if realizing she wasn’t dreaming at all. Oh, my sweet wench. He put himself between her legs and pulled them over his shoulders.

No matter how many times they have fucked or he’d tasted her, Brienne always looked stunned and disbelieving. He couldn’t believe to be so lucky being able to fuck a woman like her either. As he nosed through her thick, pubic curls, he raised his eyes. She was watching him, blinking and yeah, looking like she couldn’t believe this was not a sexy dream. He smiled then sought to destroy her.

She wailed and moaned, writhed and thrashed under him as his tongue and fingers fucked her wet pussy. Her cunt lips were plump and she was dripping. It boggled his mind at how easily she got wet. Her honey was thick, sticky, and tasted slightly of him because they had fucked last night. _He clamped his lips around her tight clit and sucked to the point that his cheeks hollowed._

Brienne came with a high-pitched cry, her pussy clinging so tightly around his fingers they had become numb. She sobbed his name as he comforted her with light licks and feathery kisses until they both fell back heavily on the mattress. 

Only for a moment. Brienne glanced at Jaime and found that despite being smug, he was stiff with tension. She only had to glance down to know what to do. Soon she was taking a condom from the drawer and Jaime was kicking off his pants.

They fucked staring deeply in each other’s eyes, Brienne’s grip on his shoulders crushing, his on her waist, her hips no gentler. He felt her fast approaching her climax given how frantically her pussy was strangling his cock. _Fuck._ He squeezed his eyes shut and her mouth slanted against his. _Double fuck._ He was actually whining. Never had he been as hard for any woman until Brienne. 

Her strong arms flew around his shoulders, leaving it to him to take her to the edge. No problem. He grunted against her tongue, sucked it, pulled his head back to see her head bobbing and her hair flying. She transferred her grip on the headboard, lowering herself more and spreading her legs wider. Jaime let out an “Aaah. . .” as his impossibly hard cock pushed deeper inside. He was so deep. He looked in her eyes.

Brienne made a sound between a gasp and a wheeze as she climaxed. Holy Seven Hells, what a sight. Her pale throat arching, her freckles vivid splotches, sweat gleaming from between her tits, sliding down her stomach. Jaime’s fingers dug in the taut flesh of her hips, bracing her for one rough thrust after the next. By then she was only holding on to him, limp and heavier. He yanked her head back to him and pushed his tongue in her still-gasping mouth.

Jaime buried his cry in her mouth as his hips jackknifed against hers. His groans were animalistic, hungry sounds as his body surged through the final thrusts. 

He rested his forehead on her sweaty shoulder, panting as she tenderly caressed his hair, his back. His smile was happy as she pressed soft, little kisses around his face before touching his lips. Cupping his face in her big hands, she whispered, blushing, “I guess that crack of dawn workout wasn’t enough, huh?”

He laughed. “It was a warm-up,” he agreed.

“Horny kingslayer,” she teased him, yet blushing even more.

"Insatiable wench.”

Brienne playfully nipped him on the lower lip then let go, swinging her leg off him and getting up from the bed. Jaime took his pants and disposed of the condom in the bathroom, noting that except for a few strands of floss, sticks of Q-tips and crushed tissue, it was mostly filled with torn foil packets and rubbers. A look in the cabinet showed that the forty-pack he had bought too only had ten. Damn. They were quick to finish the box Brienne had bought so she had restocked. This was how much they were fucking? Unbelievable. He was a lucky bastard.

Brienne joined him in the bathroom, now with her pajamas on. His cock was limp but it was beginning to twitch just looking at her messy hair, swollen lips, scenting his soap on her. He must be looking at her hungrily because she reddened and ducked her head. He chuckled and kissed her on the cheek.

“Don’t take too long. I got your favorite muffins. And I have a gift.”

“A gift?” She asked. “What for?"

“What, I can’t give the woman I love and fuck a gift whenever I want?” He countered. “I know you’re worried about today. Don’t be. Whatever happens, I will always know you’re the best, Brienne.”

He kissed her again, enjoying the confused expression on her face and left.

Today was their meeting with Second Sons. It was the biggest record company to date, and had nearly every artist among its roster of talents. Kingsguard’s previous contract with The Golden Company had been terminated when the group disbanded. Jaime’s antics had left everyone with a sour taste and word had it that The Golden Company would not entertain anything from Kingsguard, even from individual members. 

Brienne was nervous because Second Sons’ artists were mainly pop stars—people who had no business calling themselves artists in the first place, in Jaime’s opinion. They were manufactured and didn’t have their own voice. They were the kids from talent shows who could sing but their songs came from the company. Brienne was not too keen about them but knew that if the Second Sons signed Jaime on, it would be big news. That made him the only rock star in their roster. Jaime needed publicity. Though only off the radar for a little over a year, attention spans were short and the taste fickle. 

She joined him in breakfast. Her eyes were big, curious pools as she nagged him about what the unnecessary gift. He rolled his eyes and said she was the only person he knew who hated gifts. A small argument ensued, one that he enjoyed. Brienne’s reaction caused no offense because he knew she didn’t like it when people fussed over her and to her, giving her gifts was an example. She was so used to giving without question that she was on a steep learning curve of receiving. Jaime told her to enjoy the muffins he had thoughtfully bought for her instead of getting on his case about the fucking gift she hadn't even seen.

Their argument ended with Jaime shutting her up with a kiss and cupping her cunt through her pajamas. Brienne’s yelp was comical if not for the annoyance that lingered in her eyes as she accused him of deploying sex weapons against her yet again. He laughed and declared always, always he would.

“Gods, sometimes I just want to strangle you!” Brienne exclaimed, glaring at him. 

Jaime smiled angelically. She let out a growl then laughed. He grabbed her again for a kiss. She whined and pushed him away.< /p>

“No, Jaime! We have a big day ahead of us.” She glanced at the clock. “Our meeting—“

“Won’t be for a couple of hours,” he drawled, taking the collar of her shirt to pull her close. She pinched him and he howled.

“We both know that if we fuck we’re going to be late. We have to prepare. I have a dossier on the people we’re meeting—“

He sat back, shaking his head. “You have a dossier? What the fuck, wench. You’re like, a one-woman spy agency.”

She stood up and gathered the plates. “Yes. I am. I don’t like going in blind, especially when it’s people we’ve never dealt with before. You will have to be nice—“

“Aren’t I always?” Jaime sprawled open-legged on the chair and pointed at his lap. “Ditch those plates, wench. Come on. I’ll show you a very nice time.”

“Is horny the only mode you’re on?”

“With you in the room? It’s my default setting."

“No. Go get dressed or something. I don’t fancy rolling around the kitchen this morning.”

“Does that mean you fancy rolling around tonight?”

“Jaime.” She narrowed her eyes at him, her cheeks bright pink. “Go.”

He let out a very dramatic sigh and launched to his feet. “Fine. I’m going. But only because you told me to. By the way, before I forget, we’ll have to swing by the store later. We’re out of lube.” He dropped his eyes pointedly at her butt and smirked as she turned very red. 

Jaime didn’t get dressed. They still had lots of time. He was nervous too, so he turned to the other thing that helped him relax—singing. Getting his trusty old guitar, he sat in the living room and strummed the first notes of the song. Soon, he was singing The Lady Is A Wench. Brienne was no doubt listening—his house was huge but hardly had any wall divisions. So he changed some of the lyrics to sexually explicit ones. 

He grinned when she emerged from the kitchen scowling and blushing.

 _“`Up and down, side-to-side,_  
Get inside,  
Scream and grind  
Dig and find—“

Brienne put her hands on her hips. “I certainly hope you won’t be singing that to the execs.”

“Only for you, my lady wench. By the way, I wrote a new one last week. It’s my favorite so far.”

“Uh-huh. What is it this time?” She said drily. Jaime had been writing a lot of sexy, not appropriate-for-public-consumption songs. “It’s not something like ‘Blow, Berry Mouth,’ is it?” It was about how uniquely talented she was in sucking him off. Jaime always thought he was going to lose his dick when she blew him. 

“I call it the `Cunt Song.’”

“Sing that and you’ll never see me naked again.” 

“Hey! It’s a better title. The first one I came up with was `Pussy Pie Swoon.’”

Brienne rolled her eyes and stalked on heavy feet up the stairs. He laughed and started singing the ‘Cunt Song.’ 

_“`She’s a deluge—“_

Brienne yelled.”Not another word, Lannister!”

“Would you like to hear `Sweet Doorway’ again?” 

_He swore he heard her blush. “Seven hells, no!”_

Brienne would be in the shower and getting ready. Still, Jaime wouldn’t cross his wench and that just sang another song, an old Kingsguard hit called ‘Battle at Trident.’ He was singing for close to half an hour before he went upstairs to peek in on Brienne.

She was dressed in hip-hugging white panties and a tank top. He swallowed at the sight of her thick, muscled thighs and long legs before his gaze traveled to her belly button peeking from under the tee. He felt himself swell at pink shadow of her nipples under the shirt, as well as the star shape of her piercings. She was drying her hair and turned around to see him.

“You should get dressed,” she said. “You look nicer in my t-shirt but I don’t believe it’s appropriate.”

“I have something for you.”

She shook her head and finished the business with her hair. “No. We’re not going to fuck.”

Jaime chuckled and glanced at her familiar dark suit flat on the bed. “I would love to, but that’s not my agenda. I really have a gift for you. I hope you like it. Come on. It’s in my closet.”

Still looking doubtful, Brienne reluctantly followed him. Jaime impatiently tugged her by the hand and brought her to his closet.

He left her at the doorway and strode towards a black, leather garment bag at the end of the room. He smiled at her then turned to unzip it. With a flourish, he presented her with a pantsuit in a dark sapphire shade. Brienne’s mouth fell open as she shuffled toward him.

"Try it,” he urged, watching the emotions flitting on her face. Surprise, mainly, then a sweet shyness. “I hope I got your measurements right. I would rather you don’t wear anything under the jacket, wench.” His eyes were emerald fire as she blushed down to her chest. “Or anything under the suit at all. Just you.”

“This is beautiful, Jaime,” she marveled, reaching out to touch the collar hesitantly. He urged her again and, biting her lip, tugged off her tank top.

Brienne’s motions were brisk and business-like but Jaime loved every second of it. Her freckles should be bared as much as possible, in his opinion. He licked his lips as her pierced nipples hardened under his scrutiny. He stared longingly at her hairy cunt as she stood nude before him, pink all over and looking like everything he wanted and more. He wanted to press a kiss on her Evenstar tattoo. That’s what she was to him. She was the way. 

She put on the pants first. They were slim with a flat front. Whether in flats or heels, her legs would go on forever. Her ass wasn’t round nor curvy but high, athletic, and he knew for a fact, very, very firm. She blushed as he smiled at her warmly before holding out the matching suit jacket.

It made her wide shoulders look less bulky. The suit was done in lean, elegant lines to showcase her powerful, athletic form. Brienne was never going to look feminine but he could help her look more wonderful than she already was. The jacket had a wide collar, a deep neckline. A single big button closed the jacket, causing it to nip around her straight waist. The wide collar gave her the illusion of a dip there.

Jaime stood back and nodded, pleased that the result was just as he had imagined. Brienne bought good suits and she looked okay in them. But blue was her color. The suit’s color was an exact shade of her sapphire eyes, and made her pale, freckled skin look creamy. She wasn’t wearing make-up—another thing about her that Jaime liked. Her eyes were bright enough and her mouth was naturally red and wide.

She looked powerful. Fearless. Sexy. She was woman.

Brienne glanced down at the swath of flesh bared by the jacket. “I don’t know if I should be this bare, Jaime.” 

“You look fucking fantastic,” he declared firmly, putting his hands on her waist. He brushed her hair away from her face and smiled. “No one will be able to look away from you.”

She flushed. “I don’t want that.”

“Wench, this isn’t just my comeback we’re fighting for but yours. Aren’t you through getting slammed online for selling out?” He said. A lot of hard-core rock fans were disappointed she had participated in The Band but Rhaegar had it worse. “This is showing those idiots you’re above that. They’re sheep. You’re off to regain your empire.” 

Brienne cradled his hand on her cheek. “Isn’t that your empire?”

“It’s ours.” He told her earnestly. “I won’t do this without you. You’re the only one I trust with this, Brienne.” 

“What if they don’t take the deal like the others?” It was frustrating and embarrassing getting the equivalent of doors slammed in their faces by gleeful records execs. “I don’t know—Jaime, I can’t stand it if you hate me.”

“I love you, you stupid giant. How can I hate you?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not disappointed?”

“Not at you.” He slapped her bottom playfully. “Do you think if I was I’d be like this? You can never disappoint me, Brienne. Never. I swear it. And you know it’s true.”

She rested her forehead against his with a sigh. They held each other.

“Whatever happens, I’m yours.” He whispered. “And you’re mine.”

Brienne stiffened and flushed. “That sounds like a vow.”

“How else does it sound?” Jaime kissed her. “Now. Let’s get me ready. We have to pick which of my lucky boxers I’ll wear. Or do you think I should also go commando? We're a team, after all. ”


	2. A Cornered Lion

Second Sons began as a small, independent recording label with folksy, weird groups and artists under it before it became the juggernaut that it was today. Their earlier artists were dropped in favor of more commercial talents. This was not unusual. What most in the music industry couldn’t stand was that Second Sons made no apologies in being a pop group mill, holding auditions for starry-eyed young boys and girls who could sing but would be better known for their looks. And they didn’t have to apologize being that the records they produced ruled the charts for weeks, sometimes months, the artists and songs nominated. Soon, record companies were putting more focus on pop music due to its easier marketing and bigger financial return. 

Brienne was at her wits’ end. They’ve had meetings with three major recording labels, all of them wanting a Kingsguard comeback, not a solo one by Jaime Lannister. Solo rock musicians didn’t sell, they pointed out. No matter how good-looking he was, how great a singer, Jaime had his age going against him when he came out as such. If he were at least ten years younger, it would be a dream to promote him. But he was forty-five now, still golden blond, still one of the handsomest if not the most handsome man in Westeros. But he wouldn’t sell to tweens and teenagers, the group that didn’t have their own finances but had incredible buying power. The college crowd were more into bands, the twentysomethings still discovered new music but despite having their own money now, they weren’t really into buying CDs. Those in their thirties would buy Jaime but they were small. Past thirty-five, for record execs, was a dead market. The songs one listened to as a teenager, they contended, would still be the songs they would listen in their fifties. Those were the only artists they would buy. Record companies didn’t cater to nostalgia. That was for cruise trips for people on their fifteenth high school reunion.

There were three men behind Second Sons. Daario Naharis, Mero and Prendahl na Ghezn. The men looked different from each other—Brienne easily identified Prendahl’s Ghiscari features with his heavy dark brows and olive skin—but somewhat managed to look similar. They were dark and swarthy, not as tall as Jaime but swift in their movements. Their suits were clearly tailored and expensive yet they still looked like thugs. 

And they were also lecherous—with the exception of Daario, the only one who remembered she had a neck and a face. Mero leered openly at her chest exposed by the deep neckline of her suit. Prendahl was smiling but she didn’t trust it—he had given her a lingering once-over. Jaime, quick to notice what was going on, put himself between her and the men. Brienne’s face went hot at that. On one hand, he was just being Jaime. On the other hand, she had no need for protection and it was going to take more than two indiscreet men to intimidate her. She had to sneak a brief squeeze of his fingers as they were ushered in a conference room with a long glass-topped table and thickly-cushioned black leather chairs. Their eyes met and he nodded in understanding.

Mero and Prendahl’s behavior should have clued her in on the kind of deal they wanted. Daario did much of the talking, his voice smooth and soothing. As soon as Brienne heard the word ‘cover’ and ‘Winterfest hit’ she held up a firm hand and turned cool blue eyes on him.

“Tell me I heard wrong,” she said, seeing Jaime glaring at the three out of the corner of her eyes. “You did not just dare suggest that the only deal you’re giving Jaime Lannister is a fucking remake of the cheesiest song there is, and hoping to make it into a Winterfest hit.”

“The world has changed since the last time Kingsguard ruled it,” Daario replied. “Remakes sell fast and break the bank. This isn’t the market for an original, nor for rock music. But if the song you sing becomes the Winterfest number one, we will be open to a record deal of originals.”

“This is Jaime Lannister,” Brienne snarled. “The Kingslayer. He sang every memorable rock anthem in the last fifteen years!”

“Rock music no longer sells, “ Mero said, speaking for the first time since the introduction. “Parents don’t like them because of their negative influence. The genre has a bad rep for churning out junkies and addicts of all sorts.”  
Brienne narrowed her eyes at him. Jaime spoke up, his voice sarcastic. “Speak up.”

“Excuse me?” Mero demanded.

Brienne turned to caution him but Jaime’s deceptively easy lounging on the chair masked a lion readying itself to go for the jugular.

“I have yet to see or hear about a definitive argument against rock music due to its apparent negative influence. The idea of rock, so you must know, is to question the Establishment. The Establishment dictates this is the only way to do things. Rock says fuck that, here’s another way, and there are others. Telling people they have a choice and they don’t have to be mindless sheep their entire lives is hardly negative. Now as for, how did he say it?” He said to Brienne before turning back to Mero. “`Churning out junkies and addicts.’ You’re going by reported cases, whoever you are. In the music industry, the incidence of drugs and addiction to substances may be rampant among the artists and it’s usually because of record executives who can’t keep their hands to themselves and fuck us as if we’re fucking robots off the assembly line. You screw artists of profits that are rightfully theirs. You make them basically pay first before getting signed on. If a lot of artists are messed up it’s because of the system you perpetuate.”

“Classic, isn’t it?” Mero mocked. “To blame everyone for what happened to you but yourself.”

“This is not—“ Brienne began but Jaime refused to back down.

“Oh, I’ve only myself to blame. But I won’t stop you from making a confession for fucking some naïve sixteen-year-old from Highgarden who’s now in rehab for the third time.” 

Mero flushed and Daario glanced at him with a frown. Jaime’s stare was emerald glaciers.

“We came here to make a deal, not to be at the receiving end of insults from a self-righteous asshole,” Brienne said. 

Daario gave Mero a warning look then turned to them. “Apologies. If we can get back to the deal we were talking about?”

“We’re big fans of Kingsguard, Mr. Lannister,” Prendahl said. “But we have to be realistic. The band is gone. You were gone for two years. That’s a long time. Other artists have taken over. There’s a resurgence of boy groups. That’s where the market is.”

“Do you mean to say that you’re going to market forty-five-year-old me as a ‘boy’?” Jaime sounded displeased.

“No. Of course not.” Daario was grinning. “But Kingsguard is dead, yes?”

Brienne answered for Jaime. “Let’s get straight to the point, shall we? If Jaime signs on—“

“If we sign him on.”

“What song is he going to sing? How many? Are we talking about a single or an album?”

“It’s seven weeks to Winterfest, Miss Tarth,” Daario replied. “We can offer a single.”

She held her breath. This was bad. Jaime down to a single. And a remake.

_A pop single._

She wanted to retch.

“What. Song.” She bit out. She could also feel Jaime tensing beside her.

Mero smiled. “We want the Kingslayer to do a cover of ‘Love Is All Around.’”

“Except, since it’s for the season, it’s going to be ‘Winterfest Is All Around.’” Daario clarified solemnly.

 

“Jaime, no. You don’t have to do this. You can walk away. There are other deals,” Brienne was saying desperately as she followed Jaime inside his house. “We have choices,” she insisted stubbornly.

Gods, the meeting was not just a disaster. It was a fucking catastrophe. Though she believed what she was saying, Second Sons was the last major label on their list. Their remaining hope. Some hope it was. Jaime doing a cover of that awful cheesy love song? A fucking love song? Fuck the Seven. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Brienne swore if she had the power she would personally fuck every deity of the Seven in the ass. She was that furious.

Jaime shrugged off his leather jacket and left it on sofa. Brienne loved him in his white t-shirt, faded jeans and heavy boots because he looked relaxed and more handsome. However, his shoulders were tensed and the grim look that had settled on his face after the meeting ended was still there. He had refused her offer to take him to lunch so they could talk. Instead, he’d asked that they go for a drive and just. . .drive.

She drove in circles until he told her he wanted to go home. As soon as the car was parked, Brienne continued trying to convince Jaime to refuse the Second Sons’ measly and insulting offer.

Jaime ran his fingers through his blond hair, sighed deeply and trudged upstairs. Brienne shook her head and called him out. He turned to face her. He looked tired and drawn. Gods, she had done this. _I love this man and look what I’ve done._

“Let’s talk.” She was pleading. 

“Brienne,” was all he said.

“Jaime, please don’t agree to the offer. It’s beneath you.” 

“We’ve been doing this for weeks and weeks,” he murmured, going down the stairs and walking heavily. He turned to head down the hall and Brienne followed him to his study. Her heart was heavy taking in their surroundings. The walls were full of the music and industry awards Kingsguard had collected over the years, photos of their concerts as well as with celebrities. She stared at the photo of a younger Jaime during one of their concerts. His head was thrown back, mouth open as he screamed. Droplets of sweat clung to his hair and threads slid down his muscular chest. The waistband of his jeans were dark with it. Her body was quick to respond, nipples tightening painfully and her pussy softening. She turned back to Jaime and caught him watching her.

“The Second Sons offer is all I’m getting wench.” He said simply.

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes big and bright. Her puffy lower lip jutted out. “Don’t be like that. I-I can look at other labels. Smaller ones. We’ll take a huge cut but we can opt for outside hires for promotions--”As she blabbed senselessly, Jaime approached her. She was still talking as he stood before her, and talked some more as his hands went to her face and prompted her to look at him, see only him. 

“We’ll have a Jaime Lannister website. An official domain—“ she continued just before Jaime planted his mouth firmly and determinedly on hers. She whimpered, sinking into the heat of the kiss momentarily before she pulled away.  
“We’ll set up your own channel—“

Jaime smiled softly and kissed her again. He backed her against the desk and she grunted as the edge dug hard on the backs of her thighs. 

“We’ll make our approach organic,” she said breathlessly as she tore her mouth away from him. She was red and panting as he unbuttoned her jacket and pushed it off her shoulders. “Hells, let’s put up our own record label—“ The last word ended in a moan as Jaime closed his lips around her nipple. His mouth was a soft suction around the tip. 

As good as he was making her feel, Brienne was determined. “Jaime, please. Stop. We have to have a new strategy—“

“We have a new strategy,” he answered then pulled off his t-shirt. Despite what she just said, she couldn’t help skimming her palms down his sexy chest, thumb the hard coins of his nipples. Her mouth was watering at the sight of him half-naked and wanting nothing more than to kiss her senseless. 

“Jaime—“ she gasped as he caressed her naked back.

“I’ve made up my mind, wench.” 

Jaime was kissing her neck as he spoke. As he licked the pulse just under her jaw, Brienne snapped out momentarily to say, “No, Jaime. You deserve better—“

“I have been gone for a long time,” he told her. “I understand them, really, I do. I really want to get back onstage, wench. If doing a cover of that fucking cheesy song is the first step then . . .I will. I can’t be choosy at this stage, Brienne.”

“Yes you can. You’re Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. Kingslayer!”

“Do you believe that covering a crappy love song would make that disappear?”

“No. Of course not.” She declared. “You’re more than those things.”

“I really want to sing again, wench,” Jaime told her. “It would be ideal if it’s my material, but I can be a patient man. I didn’t become the Kingslayer overnight.”

Did he not see just how much he deserved to be onstage without having to share the spotlight with anyone?

“Oh, Jaime,” she sighed helplessly, leaning heavily against him.

To her relief, he held her. The heat of their passion was forgotten, for the moment.

“Trust me on this, wench.” He pulled away to look at her. “Believe me?”

“I always do,” she said. Yet why do I feel that I’m just standing by and letting disaster unfold?

“This is just a stepping stone. Not a roadblock. If it reminds people of me, fine. If not, then we’ll go around for another deal,” Jaime told her.

Though he was caressing her as he spoke and sneaking in a kiss or two, there was resolve in his face. Brienne had never seen it before. She was proud but still too angry at what he was forced into.

“You own the stage, Jaime Lannister,” she whispered as he kissed her gently. “Concert halls and stadiums are yours.”  
“And they’ll always be mine. But I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t have to.”

“If I don’t, my name will be mud in this blasted town,” Jaime complained. “I want to take the deal, Brienne.”  
He was determined. She knew there was no talking to him.

But she could kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot for this installment was inspired by the Billy Mack character in Love Actually.


	3. All Is Clear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some angst and some smut. Watch out for explicit language.

It took Jaime three days to convince Brienne to go along with his decision. It was the longest three days of their lives. Tensions were high and their mood swung like a pendulum from frustration to annoyance. Brienne was horrified that Jaime was serious about taking the deal. Jaime couldn’t believe that she didn’t see the possibilities of this, no matter how shitty. He was going to sing. Again. He would be part of a creative process. Again. He had missed it. It was also surprising that Brienne was stubbornly resistant being that they both knew he was at his best onstage behind a microphone.

“We must get something a lot more concrete than the promise of a better deal,” Brienne argued. “I don’t want you tied to that studio any longer than necessary. If this fucking cover becomes a hit, it’s going to be our calling card but useless if we’re stuck with those perverts.”

“Fine,” he agreed. His wench was not going to be around Mero and Prendahl if he could help it. He toyed with idea of hiring Gregor Clegane to keep watch over her. “I see the sense behind that. Now are you satisfied?”

She shook her head. There was a downcast quality in her eyes that Jaime wasn’t going to forget anytime soon. “I’d like to reiterate that I do not approve.”

“Point taken and remembered. But the final decision is mine and as my manager, you will go along and support the choices I make even when you disagree.”

Brienne looked about to protest but clamped her lips shut. Instead, she glared back at him, her face deeply flushed.

“Wench,” Jaime growled, advancing toward her. “I need your word.”

“You do have the last word,” she grumbled. “But as your manager, your friend and—“

His voice softened. “And my what, my lady wench?”

He almost laughed at how redder she became. “I have the right to disagree when I know your choices will harm you.”

“Come on. I’m already an ex-cocaine addict, ex-alcoholic. What other harm is there for me, pray tell?” Jaime looked in her eyes and said, his voice grave. “Brienne, I need you at my side. Even when you disagree. Even when you think I will be hurt. I need you at my side. Otherwise I won’t do this.”

Brienne surprised him by flinging her arms around him, wrapping him in a crushing embrace. He grunted but didn’t push her away. She did loosen her hold but he quickly yanked her back to his chest. 

“I don’t want you hurt. I won’t let you be a joke,” she whispered against his ear as she clutched at his nape fiercely. Her warm lips were delightful tingles on his skin despite her anxiety. 

“I’ve been the punchline of so many jokes that people are tired of it,” he said, kissing her on the shoulder. “I need to do something, wench. And this is all the world would let me do for now.” He set her apart from him, his hand on her face. They stared at each other silently before he declared with quiet resolve, “I need this.” _I need this because you love me best like this._

Another two days was spent with Brienne and Catelyn Stark arguing with Daario Naharis and their legal department. Brienne played hardball. If Jaime was going to be humiliated doing a cover of such a cheesy song, she didn’t want him shouldering even the slightest cost of marketing and promotion. All of this should be done by Second Sons. She also refused to have anything on paper that bound him to the company longer than needed. It was risky considering they were taking a gamble already but she was going to protect Jaime as much as she could. If she was able to put the fear of the Seven in execs when she was managing the entire band, she was going to put the fear of all deities in both Westeros and Essos in those out to screw her Jaime.

Jaime let them hash it out but demanded one clause: “Only you can enter the studio when I’m recording, aside from the sound engineer and other producers, of course,” he told Daario. “If your fucking partners put one foot in the room, the deal is off. I won’t have my manager subjected to harassment of any kind from those fuckers and anyone else or I will sue.”

“Jaime—“ Brienne protested but the tight expression on his face indicated his determination. Daario knew that even when the man before him needed the record deal more than they needed him, Jaime was still a Lannister. Their deep pockets ensured the best defense legal team on speed dial.

Daario glanced at Brienne’s pink cheeks then back at Jaime, wondering why the latter was so protective of her. She was ugly and too tall, with too many freckles, crooked teeth. If Lannister was sticking it to her, he didn’t care but he knew how Mero and Prendahl could be. He offered his hand to Jaime.

“You have my word.”

As soon as Jaime was signed on, Second Sons put out a press release. It was short, only five sentences long. Unnoticed at first, it gradually circulated through social media and the rumor mill. By day’s end, entertainment news shows had picked it up. 

The deal with Second Sons was shitty. That was the truth. It was the kind of offer you made to a mediocre has-been, not someone who was as legendary as Jaime Lannister. But he was starved for a creative endeavor. Second Sons was the only one willing to make a deal with him, Jaime Lannister, former frontman for Kingsguard.

Many decried Jaime’s involvement with the Pop Factory, as the Second Sons was called. Many were stunned. It trended on Crow and overshadowed important news such as the parliamentary elections in Dorne, the approaching winter that was rendering the northern states in Westeros into desolate wastelands of ice. There was a lot of disbelief that greeted the news. Jaime Lannister a fucking sellout? The world was still recovering from Rhaegar Targaryen basically whoring himself out to anything with regard to music but Jaime was the sort you couldn’t push around. What had happened?

Brienne’s phone rang nonstop. The return of the Kingslayer was big news and the way he was doing it was very controversial. Daario too was being nagged for interviews but Jaime was firm about not communicating to the media until the single hit the shelves. 

They thought the world would be tired about it the next day, the day after and so on. Neither expected the eyes of the world on them for the entire fucking week. Jaime proposed a long weekend at the Vale to recharge for when he began recording on Monday. He had a cozy, lakefront cottage there where they could shut out the rest of the world. Brienne left her laptop and tablet behind but grudgingly took her phone with her. Jaime informed Tyrion where they were going and left explicit instructions not to be disturbed and to not tell their father his whereabouts. Tywin too, had been nagging him about the report.

They arrived at the Mountains of the Moon by noon, stopping for a quick lunch at a café before hitting the store for food supplies. From the town was a thirty-minute drive to the cottage.

The cottage smelled a little musty when they entered. Jaime opened doors and windows as Brienne unpacked their groceries in the kitchen. He watched her walk across the kitchen as she opened cupboards, looking for a spare place to put the dry goods in. She had never been here before, explaining her fumbling, yet she looked as if she had always been here. Jaime smiled at her back before he unlocked the double doors that led to the terrace, where the lake could be viewed from the overstuffed lounge chairs.

He closed his eyes and inhaled. The air was cool and crisp, with a hint of ice. As fresh oxygen filled his lungs and cleared his head, he opened his eyes and stared at the blue-gray sky, at the still, dark blue lake.

 _It’s the only way for me to keep her._ He thought. _Someday, maybe she’ll love me truly when I’m away from the stage._

He knew Brienne loved him. Those eyes would never lie and she was crap at it, really. But the best of him, at this point in his life, was when he was singing. She deserved to be with the best and that’s what he would be. He hoped he could keep it long enough to show her that he wasn’t going to be the best person all the time, hoped she would still love him. 

“Jaime?”

He turned around, schooling his face in a casual, smug expression that he knew annoyed her. 

Brienne was staring at him, chewing her bottom lip until it was wet and red. Her hair was windblown and her eyes the colour of the sky under the white light of the day slipping through the open windows and doors. Suddenly, she nodded, as if confirming something she was debating within herself.

Brienne shrugged off her coat, folding it neatly on a nearby armchair. The tips of her ears were the color of strawberries as she slipped off her favorite pale blue sweater next. She paused, hesitating for a moment before she let it fall to the floor. Now she was down to a white tank top and denim mini-skirt. A cool shaft of air entered the room and she shivered. It drew her nipples tight and straining against the cotton before she pulled it off. Then she unzipped her skirt.

It was no striptease but there was something sensual and sweetly innocent with the way she had undressed. She looked so young despite the piercings on her nipples, the rippled muscles of her stomach, her thick, hard thighs. Her cunt, with its wild tangle of dark blond hairs. His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he stared at the only place he never wanted to leave. He had to force himself to look at her legs still covered in boots else he would be coming all over the floor right this second. 

“Jaime?” Her voice was hesitant, and she was back to chewing her swollen lip. Her arms began to rise to shield her little tits.

“Never do that,” Jaime didn’t expect himself to sound as if he were pleading. “Put your arms down. Let me see you.”  
She nodded and slowly lowered her arms.

“Ask me,” he told her, his voice strained.

Blushing, looking almost beautiful with her red cheeks, messy hair, in the light, she stammered, “Will—will you fuck me?”

It was sweet, how she could muster enough boldness to strip before him then look scandalized at what he wanted her to say.

“Again, wench.”

“Please fuck me, Jaime.”

He went to her.

 

Nights in the Vale began early, and after an emotional and mentally exhausting week, then the vigorous afternoon in the sheets, they were bushed. 

They lay like spoons in bed when the most unwelcome sound in the world smashed through the quiet. Brienne whimpered in tired protest, trying to move away from the ringing phone which was coming from the bedside table behind Jaime. The space that formed between them was enough for a column of cold air to slide in. Jaime hissed, quickly biting her gently on the shoulder to stop her. Goosebumps forming on their skins, he cuddled behind her, seeking warmth. His hand slid from her hard hip down to her sticky blond muff. He sucked on the cooling patch of skin of her neck as his fingers parted her folds to enter her moist and very warm pussy. 

“Jaime,” she moaned, possibly complaining about the persistent ringing, maybe in pleasure at his fingers fucking her lazily. 

“Ignore it.” He ordered her, flicking a tongue at her ear before sliding it in and out of the big but surprisingly delicate shell as his fingers moved. The wet squishing sound was loud but it wouldn’t drown out the phone. Her thighs trapped his hand. 

“Answer it, damn it,” she gasped, her hips shoving roughly against his crotch, his erect cock. “Oh, gods.”

“Fuck the gods,” Jaime complained, a hand slipping under her neck to turn her face. Their kiss was awkward but he managed to stuff his tongue in her gasping mouth. Meanwhile, his fingers pushed all the way deep inside her cunt and she jerked, coming quick and hard. Tearing her mouth away from his kisses, she squeezed his fingers mercilessly as she shook and rippled. 

The fucking phone was still ringing. Jaime let out a growl of frustration, pulling his fingers out. A slim, sticky thread of her honey trailed after his fingers. Brienne whined. He patted her hip awkwardly as he groped for the light switch. Light exploded in the room, burning right in his eyes. Squinting and blinking, he felt for his cell phone and answered it.

“This better be good,” he muttered. Behind him, Brienne was stealing the sheets and curling on her side.

“Who the fuck ate your balls for you to make that fucking deal?” Sandor Clegane yelled. “What the fuck have you been fucking smoking to fucking agree, you fucking idiot?”

“Sandor,” Jaime held the phone away from his ear as his former bandmate continued to hurl insults. “How nice to finally hear from you. How long has it been?” 

“What possessed you to let them fuck you in the ass like that?” Sandor continued to rage.

“How are you doing old friend. What sweet words of greeting,” Jaime snapped.

“Fuck you. And when you see Brienne, tell her that too.”

Jaime rolled his eyes and said over his shoulder, “Wench, Clegane says fuck you.”

Brienne, who was sleeping with her back facing him, turned around quickly. “What?”

“He says—“

Squinting at him through the glare, she gestured wildly that he cover the phone’s mouthpiece. “What?” He demanded.

“Jaime! People can’t know!” She hissed.

“What? That you’re with me? Why not?”

“Do I have to explain to you that at the moment we have to market you as someone who’s available as well?”

“Who the fuck came up with that stupid plan?”

Her face flamed. “I did.”

“Well, it’s fucking stupid. I’m not available. I love you, I’m with you, and I’m fucking you.”

“Hey!” Sandor was yelling again. “What’s going on there?”

“Jaime, please,” Brienne pleaded. “Not now.”

Fuck, he could never say no to those guileless sapphire eyes. Jaime was beginning to see that a life with Brienne was going to involve with her never having to put much effort to convince him to do things he would dislike. Those beautiful eyes would be his undoing. Genetics was so fucking unfair. 

“You and I are going to have a serious discussion about keeping our relationship a secret, wench,” he told her. “But right now, I have to muzzle this fucking hound.”

Annoyed, he yanked on a robe and left the room. It was too cold out so he just sat at the top of the stairs.

“Sansa married you knowing you have a mouth dirtier than a public toilet, right?” he retorted to Sandor.

“You’re not my favorite person in the word, you asshole,” Sandor growled. “But you’re making a huge fucking mistake signing on with the fucking Second Sons. Has all that snorting dissolved what little brains you have, you fucking cub?”

“Listen, as much as I would like to continue this lovely conversation, I’m tired. I want to sleep. If you want to yell at me or punch me or whatever, I’ll be at the Second Sons recording studio at ten a.m. this Monday. Shall I order your favorite pizza?”

“Jaime.” Now Sandor was serious. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I want the love of a woman I don’t deserve. The best of me isn’t enough but it’s what I have and I will fucking try to keep her. And now she doesn’t want anyone to know about us.

“Kingsguard ended,” was his answer, “but I won’t let that stop me from making music.”

“It’s crap and you know it.”

“It’s still music.”

“And it ain’t yours.”

“I can make it mine.” He said. “It’s going to be mine.”

“Fuck, Jaime. You’re making a big mistake.”

“I’m really tired, Clegane. I mean it. See me on Monday.”

Jaime hung up and went back to the bedroom. To his surprise, Brienne was sitting up and clutching the blanket to her chest.

“Excellent,” he said, putting his phone in the drawer and shutting it. “We need to talk.”

“I know,” she sounded helpless.

Hands on his hips, he demanded, “Why can’t we tell anyone about us, wench? I’m going to need a fucking good answer.”

“Look, part of a singer’s appeal is his availability to his audience.”

“And?”

“Jaime, don’t you know what might happen if people find out that we’re. . .together?”

“I don’t give a shit about what they’ll think about us, Brienne. I don’t care. Why should you?”

“I said—“

“That’s a lousy argument and you know it.” Jaime was angry at having his sleep interrupted, at Sandor’s phone call, at the risk he was taking and now this. Above all, this. 

“Jorah Mormont screws anything in a skirt and the audience you talk about is still mad for him. Loras is a known pillow-biter and said audience as well as his people are madder for him. Rhaegar is lot prettier than me and both men and women, whatever their sexual orientation, are still mad for him even when he’s been fucking anything in a skirt as well. Why the hell do you think our relationship will have a negative impact on my career?”

Brienne looked at him as if he were an idiot. “Well. . .look at me.”

“I’m looking wench. Looking and liking every freckle and inch.” He snapped. 

“You don’t have to flatter me. I know what I look like.”

“Do you think I’m fucking blind?”

“Of course not—“

“Again. Why should my fucking you have a negative impact on me?” 

“Jaime, your comeback hasn’t happened yet. All that’s out there so far is just news about the deal you made with Second Sons. It’s already very controversial. People are hounding us. You haven’t done anything yet. And people will pounce on any bit of news.”

“Isn’t publicity all that matters?”

“That’s your life. Not mine.”

Ah. There it was. 

Jaime rubbed his temples and sat down next to her. 

“Wench, I believe the problem is you’re afraid of losing some privacy because though you’re my manager, you’re not a public personality, am I correct?”

She nodded slowly, flushing. He would kiss her if he wasn’t annoyed at how she had dilly-dallied. His wench was an intriguing mix of contrasts. She lorded boardrooms and made execs quake and shit their pants. With him, she was so fucking innocent and clueless at times. It drove him up the wall but made him love her more. Hells, he found another reason to love her every hour of the day.

“The second you decided to be with me, you’ve already lost a huge chunk of your privacy.” He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. “I am sorry but that’s one price of being with me, wench. You’ve lost a lot, but not all. There are many, many times when it won’t be worth it. You would hate me. You would find it hard being us. But I’m hoping,” he said, clearing his throat, “that you love me enough to bear that. . .inconvenience.”

“I love you,” she blurted out. “Jaime, I love you. But--”

Her impassioned declaration did things to his knees that made him grateful to be sitting down. His insides were doing some insane topsy-turvies too. “But what? Brienne, we spent years tiptoeing around our feelings, largely because my sister—“ Jaime’s breath caught—“made sure we could never happen. She’s gone. I will always feel guilty about what happened but I’m not going to let that stop me from being with you. That means I’m with you all the way. I’m all in. Keeping us a secret is not a part of that.”

Despite the certainty of her feelings, there was still doubt in her face. But Jaime wouldn’t relent. Damn her if he was going to lie, if he was going to be set up with some brainless ingénue who giggled over everything. Air had more substance.

“I’m not with you conditionally,” he went on. “There are no if and buts. I am with you. I love you. You’re all that I want in ways I never thought possible, wench.”

Her eyes widened.

Those eyes again, he thought, annoyed. “What now?”

“You—you want me in ways. . .you didn’t expect?”

“Yes.” He was impatient.

She looked at her hands on her lap.

“What.” He growled again.

“Nothing, I—“ she shrugged, helpless and looked at him. “I wasn’t expecting that.” She blushed down to her chest.   
“Maybe now is the time to tell me what you expect out of this relationship.” Jaime told her, still annoyed. “It’s cold and I’d really love to be under the blankets with my cock inside you. But I’m here. Listening. Because you matter to me a lot, wench. You are all that matter to me. So tell me what’s been going on that thick skull of yours.”

“Oh—kay,” she said after a moment of silence. “But please don’t be mad. I don’t blame Cersei. You—You told me once she was never the same after your mother died so. . .so what she told me. . .is a product of that, I think.”  
Jaime froze. Dear gods, what had his sister done?

“You know that we never liked each other,” she began. She clutched the blanket tighter to her chest. “But. . .we were, well, we managed to be civil. For you. And the band. Jaime, you’re not the only one who wanted more from. . .what we had back then. But I wouldn’t let myself think those thoughts because you’re Jaime Lannister. You’re the Kingslayer. The Lion. The most handsome man in Westeros. Why would you look at someone like me? I was used to not being looked at but. . .I did wonder what it would be like. For you to look at me. For you to look at me the way men look at Cersei.”

His sister had been beautiful. Cersei had an otherworldly beauty. There was no denying that. As horrible as person as she was for what she done on her last night, she was still his sister. He would always love her.

“On the night she died, she came to see me. This was after you left. She told me that she’s been noticing. . .noticing things about us. She said it was obvious how I felt for you.”

Jaime was gratified to hear that. So she had felt the same. He shouldn’t mourn for the time they lost because they were together now but still. They could have been happier for a longer time.

“Then she told me that you will never share my feelings. You need me only to prop you up, support you. It really hurt. I was so sure. . .I dreamed. . .but then you were never anything but friendly and annoying. And I thought I was so good at hiding how I felt but when Cersei told me. . .and about how you only need me to help you. . .” Brienne shook her head. “Since that day, I willed myself to stop loving you. And when you started leaning on me more after Cersei died, I was haunted by what she said. I could feel myself falling for you again. I guess that’s why I turned to Oberyn. I thought I loved him. And he was good for me for a while. But I was so determined never to fall for you, to forget about you, that I forgot that I should have ended things with him earlier. The rest, well, you know what happened.”

Gods, his sister. Jaime had no idea how much damage Cersei had done until now. He reached for Brienne’s hand. 

She wasn’t done.

“So when I overheard you about to tell Sandor about us. . .her words came back to me. Jaime, never doubt that I love you. I love you. When I came to you that night. . .the first time we fucked. . .I was ready to accept what little could come from you. I would still love you. I have always loved you. You’ve shown to me many times that Cersei was wrong but I can’t help but be reminded. . .Do you forgive me?”

He kissed her knuckles then opened her fist to press a deep one on her palm. “There’s nothing to forgive, wench.”  
She hung her head. Jaime embraced her. She pressed against him and sighed his name. 

She does love _me._

“I love you.”


	4. It's Winterfest, Not Love

The weekend at the Vale turned out to be exactly what they needed. Not that it was any different back in the city—they fucked a lot, had a lot of intimate, fireside conversations. It was the freedom of being away even for just a few days that gave them that much-needed breather. They were interrupted only one more time by Tyrion, and it was just a short call to check on Jaime. They did manage to go for a quick hike in the mountains before breakfast. Once finished with eating and clean-up, they adjourned back to the bed and fucked the morning away. 

Brienne was relaxed, probably the most relaxed she had ever been, and her body was paying for it. She didn’t know if it was possible to be overfucked but she was definitely its first case. Her lips were still tingly from the countless kisses, looking redder and fuller than usual. Sliding her tongue around it experimentally made her blush and gasp. They were that sensitive. 

Though she had brushed her teeth and gargled, Jaime’s taste lingered at the back of her throat. Her throat felt a little tender and bruised from when she had sucked him down hard, enjoying too much when his eyeballs rolled to the back of his head as he flung her name to the sky repeatedly. She loved giving blow jobs, and Jaime was turning out to be her favorite for it. He looked pleased and so smug that it was worth getting him so undone with her lips and hands. It was a marvel getting him down her throat because of his size, but she was a big woman. Just the right size for him, she’d like to think. 

The black turtleneck she was wearing hid the reddish trail of kisses down her throat and around her chest. Her tits were sore and super-sensitive. There was hardly a moment in the Vale when Jaime’s mouth wasn’t latched to them. When it wasn’t, his fingers eagerly pulled and pinched her nipples, his tongue deep in her throat muffling her cries. They were so red and swollen she had skipped putting the piercings in. She wore one of the three pairs of bras she owned but the cotton was still a sensual press on the tender tips. 

Then there was the matter of her cunt. And her ass.

Jaime was not just a big guy. He was _huge_ —his cock was so thick and long it could pass as a third leg. To be fucked by a cock that size was heaven but man did it go _deep._ Brienne had not felt sensations let alone parts in her pussy that existed until his cock was bumping or rubbing at them. 

Due to how much they were fucking and the three times they forgot to use a condom, she switched to pills a few days before their Vale interlude. Jaime’s cock covered in latex was already unbelievable. She had not counted that a naked cock could feel like that, inside her. She had felt him before, yes, but without panic— _Oh gods._ That was the only way to describe it. _Oh gods._ She came so hard and that absolutely thrilled Jaime. So she spent much of the weekend on her back and only occasionally on her knees or even straight-up vertical. There was so much semen in her she was wetting the sheets at one point. And then Jaime only had to whisper to her before she let him flip her on her stomach. Brienne loved the forbidden appeal of anal sex and Jaime made her feel so good. Her orgasm was the hardest she’d ever had, going on for so long she passed out. It was that good. 

The price of that debauched weekend was in her careful movements, stiff hips, sore backside. She couldn’t walk as fast, or her usual quick strides, for that matter. Even when in the limo earlier, she had to grit her teeth as it went over a speed bump. Jaime had been amused but he was being careful too. He confessed to a chafed cock, a very stiff lower back and a persistent cramp in his hips. His lips looked too red and too slick too. 

But the physical discomfort was nothing. The weekend took their relationship to a deeper, more intimate turn and opened more doorways of trust between them. Brienne’s anxiety was significantly less. In fact, when Daario welcomed them to the studio, he gave them both a curious, assessing stare before proclaiming they looked fucking fantastic. 

Brienne had tensed at that. While she didn’t have any more misgivings about going public with Jaime, she still dreaded it. In the supermarket at the Vale, Jaime was eager to shove his tongue in her mouth and grope her quite inappropriately at the checkout line. No one glared at them, thankfully. Even better, no one recognized them with Jaime hiding his locks under a cap and Brienne with huge sunglasses that covered half of her face. She no longer doubted how he felt about her but she wasn’t as ready as she should be for when the media would find out. 

But, Brienne did feel fantastic. In the mirror she was no prettier, of course, but regular doses of Jaime’s cock did wonders for her appearance. Her hair wasn’t as limp, the shine in her eyes was never gone. Her freckled, blotchy skin looked as luminous as alabaster. She looked and felt younger. Jaime was more beautiful, and it would be unfair if she didn’t love him. She noted slight differences in him—an unusual jaunt in his step, a playful gleam in his eyes. Recordings would have Jaime tensed in the beginning and he wasn’t the sort to socialize or even talk before. This morning, he had chatted with the producers and sound engineers, even made jokes as things were set up. To her relief, he made no attempt to touch her but he did shoot her a smile from across the room as she was talking to Daario.   
Jaime looked relaxed, the most relaxed she had seen him. His good looks bore a rugged edge due to his golden locks looking a little dark and greasy as it had been unwashed for three days. He was also unshaven. He looked rough and tougher, and so, so sexy. This morning he was wearing another v-necked white t-shirt from his endless supply, slim-fitting black jeans and black leather sneakers. 

He shook hands with the back-up singers, his easy charm quickly putting them at ease once they got over just how gobsmackingly good-looking Jaime Lannister was in person. Brienne had to hide a giggle behind her palm at the young women blinking at him in disbelief, mouths hanging open. She looked like that half the time around him. 

Brienne sat in the booth with the engineer and Daario, who was co-producing the single with her. It looked to be a quick, productive morning. That was the advantage of doing a cover. You knew how it went, you knew how to sing it. It won’t take you half a day to get it right. Brienne made a list of errands to do afterwards as Jaime was putting on his headphones and chatting with the back-up singers. Laundry to pick up and drop off, an appointment with her dentist, meet with the contractor and architect for the second floor she was going to add to her house. 

When the first strains of the song began to fill the studio, she looked up from her list and watched as Jaime put his lips close to the microphone. A hot blush went through her. He looked just like that before he kissed her: emerald eyes softening and darkening at the same time, that tell-tale smirk. He always looked like that when about to sing, she just realized. Brienne quickly crossed her legs and winced. Jaime’s mouth opened and he started to sing, his eyes on her. His voice was rich and melodious. 

_“`I feel it in my fingers  
I feel it in my toes  
Love is all around me  
And so the feeling grows. . .”_

Everyone in the room cleared their throats while Brienne bit her lip. Gods, and Jaime looked so happy to be singing the crappy song. She leaned towards the microphone.

“Uh, Jaime—“

Jaime jumped away from the microphone and stared at her. She gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s Winterfest, not love,” she said pulling away a bit from the microphone and pinking. The music stopped.

“Oh.” Jaime looked startled. “I said love?”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Let’s start again. Sorry.” He smiled at everyone and it was like seeing dawn break across the sky. Gods, she was so fucking in love with him, Brienne thought. She was pathetic and that was fine. 

“But it sounds good, Jaime,” Daario thought to interject. He was sitting next to Brienne. 

The music started again. Brienne leaned forward and watched as Jaime closed his eyes and opened his mouth.

_“`I feel it in my fingers  
I feel it in my toes  
Love is all around me  
And so the feeling grows. . .”_

Brienne watched as Jaime continued, unaware of the repeated error. Oh gods, he was swaying. He was enjoying singing this. But she had to interrupt. Again, she spoke to him and Jaime this time sighed.

“I fucked up again, didn’t I?”

“It happens,” Brienne reassured him.

He smiled at her and her heart skipped a beat. Really. It happened. “Again,” he said, quiet command in his voice. Her blood stirred.

It took three more times before Jaime got it right. He grinned widely and raised his arms in victory as he sailed through the next stanza. Brienne smiled back and mimed applauding.

_“It’s written on the wind  
It’s everywhere I go  
So if you really love me—“_

Jaime winked at Brienne and her eyes widened, her spine stiffening.

_“Come on and let it show.”_

Damn it.  
Daario was lo  
oking at Brienne as her ears reddened upon debating what to do. Shoulders sinking in defeat, she interrupted again, a bit too loudly this time. Jaime yanked one headphone away from his ear and actually glared at her. He was impatient, of course.

“S-S-Snow,” Brienne stammered, feeling her nape go warm. “It’s supposed to be ‘let it snow,’   
remember?”

Jaime groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Fuck. I know. Sorry. I forgot. Snow, snow, snow. Let it snow, let it snow.”

They looked at each other. Brienne quietly implored him to give himself a break. Yes, this was an easy song. It was a cheesy song. It was beneath him. But he sounded good. Really good. He deserved better, they knew that. And she understood his frustration at not getting something so simple right. It didn’t make him stupid. There was nothing wrong with him.

How she wished she could kiss him and tell him these things. As commanding as Jaime was behind the microphone, he was just as vulnerable. Whether in a stadium or a studio.

“Go on,” she found herself saying instead. “It’s okay, Jaime.”

Jaime’s eyes bored into hers and he nodded. “Start again.”

_“`I feel it in my fingers  
I feel it in my toes  
Winterfest is all around me  
And so the feeling grows. . .”_

 

“Fuck this day,” Jaime groaned that night. He was sitting on the bed as he toed off his sneakers.   
Brienne, who was undressing in the closet, paused at hearing the defeat in his voice. It had been a very long day. Jaime kept making the same mistake. When he corrected one, he made a mistake in the other. It was painful to watch him hating himself. 

But he perfected it eventually. He sang the song a few more times so that there were choices on which cut to pick. Brienne ended up cancelling her dental appointment though she still managed to do some of the errands. Jaime went off to a meeting with Tyrion for one of the businesses he was thinking of investing in. They made arrangements to meet at her house for dinner.

She padded out of the closet in her bra and panties. Jaime continued to sit on the bed, shoulders hunched deep. She sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. Her lips brushed his cheek. 

“If it helps, I think you totally slayed the final cut,” she said sincerely. 

Despite feeling down, he gave her a small smile. “Of course you do.”

She pinched him on the shoulder. “I’m never biased.”

“I’ll never question your honor ever, wench,” he told her, resting his head on her shoulder. “Gods, I still can’t believe I did that. You’re right. It’s a shitty deal.”

She just held him. But felt compelled to say, “You wanted to sing. You got it. It’s not your first choice but you really did great, Jaime. I know it was beneath you. Everyone does. But still you showed up early and didn’t stop until you got it right and perfect. You’re the honorable one, not me. I’m just honest.”

He turned to her. She cupped his cheek upon a flash of uncertainty in his eyes. 

“I don’t know if I can do what else needs to be done.” He admitted. “Wench, it just hit me. I’m going to have to promote this abomination. I’m going to have to tell people to buy this crap record. Gods,” he buried his head in his hands. “What have I done?”

“We can still back out,” Brienne said after a moment. “We’ll have to pay them off but yes, there is a way out of this, Jaime. All you need to do is decide and I’ll do the rest.” 

Jaime took a deep breath and removed his hands from his face. She rested her chin on his shoulder.  
“I’m with you no matter what. I won’t let you do something you don’t want.” 

“It’s the only way I can have what I really want,” Jaime told her after being quiet for a few seconds.   
“There are other ways, I’m sure—“ But she cut herself off when he shook his head slowly.

“I’ve been gone too long, wench. This is all I have for now.”

Brienne shook her head and placed her hand in his. Her heart tight with love for him, she declared, “It’s not all you have, Jaime Lannister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics to "Love Is All Around" is by Wet, Wet, Wet.  
> I tweaked it, shamelessly ripping off a plot from Love Actually.   
> Jaime's outfit was inspired by NCW's in the play he read aloud with our goddess Gwendoline Christie a few years ago. 
> 
> Did you spot the slight Little Women (with Winona Ryder) reference? If you do, I'll fill every following chapter with smut. :-)


	5. Howls from the North

“Good Morning Westeros!” Petyr Baelish said enthusiastically from the TV screen, flashing his too-white, too-friendly smirk for the camera. “Isn’t it such a lovely day, Melisandre?”

“Definitely,” Melisandre, his co-host said, nodding with an enthusiasm that threatened to undo the carefully-arranged curls of her red hair. “The old ones used to say the night is dark and full of terrors but on a day this beautiful, who even thinks that?”

“And look at the size of the crowd!” Petyr gestured at the audience behind them, who cheered loudly as the cameras pointed at them. 

“They are so happy to be here!” Melisandre gushed.

“But of course they are due to loud howls from the north coming our way this morning!”

At that, the audience, composed mainly of skipping tweens and teenaged girls, let out screams. Petyr actually covered his ears and Melisandre laughed.

“Howling like wolves, aren’t you?” She told them, and they screamed even louder.

“How can they not when the Wolboyz are here?” Much louder screams followed.

Brienne winced and lowered the volume of the TV. Then she put the remote away and slowly lowered herself to the downward facing dog position.

Jaime’s single would be dropping in three days. To prepare for this, Brienne and Second Sons’ marketing and promotions department had arranged for Jaime to guest in various radio shows, podcasts, late night and morning shows. The first hurdle would be tomorrow, when Jaime would be paying a visit to Good Morning Westeros with Petyr and Melisandre. Brienne was watching the program to know how to brief Jaime and also to be on the lookout for Wolfboyz.

She had gotten her hands on the group’s media and promotions plan. It was impressive. And they were screwed if she couldn’t get Jaime in line. Aside from age, catchy tunes, the sponsorships as well as the full backing of Second Sons and screaming tweens and teenagers that scoop up everything Wolfboyz-related, Jaime Lannister had seemingly lost the war before it began. He refused to be on social media, like the Wolfboyz, refused to go to clubs and bars heavy with paparazzi presence outside. The blasted faces of the Wolfboyz was everywhere—milk cartons, cereals, the popular Wyman Burgers, clothes, bubble heads—everything. Brienne knew that she was out of her element so she had hired a new PR agency to help her with this. She no longer got Oberyn’s services. 

Despite having extra help, the last decision was still Jaime’s. He didn’t like the idea of an official fan page, where someone else would be posting material on his behalf. He didn’t like having to be on the computer or tagged or anything that would alert people of his presence. Brienne understood his resistance but it was necessary that he made his presence felt or they would be losing big-time. Not even Tyrion could persuade him.

As she mentally counted the length of time she was in the position, she heard the front door slam open then the easy shuffle of Jaime’s running shoes across the marble. She gently leaped toward the front and straightened up to a standing position, arms up to help stretch her spine. Breathing evenly, sweat slid down her cheeks, her neck, wetted her midriff. A deep exhale then she turned around to see Jaime helping himself to a carton of orange juice. Watching him thirstily glug down the drink, she felt body go even warmer. His blond hair was dark with sweat, the navy t-shirt with the cut-off sleeves he was wearing showing the sexy bunch of muscles of his arms slicked with sweat. He put the carton back in the fridge, wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and turned to her. 

His eyes were green flames that caressed from the top of her messy hair, lingering at her chest and torso shiny with sweat then her legs. Brienne was wearing her usual yoga outfit—an old midriff and older, fitted shorts. It was worn and threadbare in some places but she was not as naked as Jaime was looking at her.

“Good run?” She asked, wiping herself with a towel. She rolled up her yoga mat and went to the hallway closet to stash it there. 

“Yeah,” he said. He glanced at the TV. “You’re watching this?”

“I believe in being prepared,” she told him. “Why don’t you watch while I make breakfast?”

“Why don’t I help you and let’s just leave the TV off,” Jaime said, glancing at it again as if it had seriously offended him. 

Brienne rolled her eyes and gestured him to step aside as she opened the fridge. “No. I want us prepared for tomorrow.”  
She took eggs and a package of bacon as she spoke. She put them next to the stove. Jaime was shaking getting rid of yesterday’s coffee granules in the trash under the sink.

“What for?” Jaime asked. “I sing, chat, tell people to buy the single. Am I going to have to juggle like a monkey?”

“First, you’ll have to tap into the Jaime Lannister Well of Charm,” she retorted, getting a non-stick and firing up the stove. “It seems to have run dry.”

She squeaked as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and licked her sweaty neck. “I used it all up to get you to bed, wench.”

Blushing, she tried squirming away. “That wasn’t charm. That was your cock.”

Jaime licked her again. She made a face. “Jaime, that’s disgusting.”

“I think a dash of pepper would help,” he teased her. “But I like my wenches red and sweaty.”

“That,” she turned around and planted her hands firmly on his chest to prevent him from coming any closer. She turned away to turn off the stove. Jaime rolled his eyes and used his hips to grind teasingly against her. His smile was bright as she blushed furiously. Facing him, she grunted, “You have got to stop calling me wench!”

“Then stop acting like one,” he told her, taking her hands and pulling them behind her. “I have a weakness for blond, blue-eyed wenches who blush easily. With the wettest pussy in Westeros.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she hissed just before he kissed her.

His lips tasted of salt and his body was hot and sticky with sweat but damn, there was just no resisting Jaime Lannister. She groaned against his tongue as he grabbed her by the waist and pressed her slowly to the floor. As soon as her back touched the tiles, she yelped and accidentally bit his lower lip. “It’s cold!”

Jaime licked the drop of blood from there, shaking his head at her. As she began to murmur an apology, he grabbed her again and turned, putting her on top of him. Before she could utter another word, he was pushing her down and seeking her tongue with his own. He tasted of more sweat, with the metallic tinge of blood. Gods. He tasted so good. Her powerful body pinned him to the floor, rubbing against his muscles under the sweat-soaked shirt. She circled her hips, her swelling pussy bumping the hard ridge of his cock. His fingers dug in her hair as he growled under her kiss.

It was crazy how wanting Jaime made her want him more. It was breathtakingly endless. She drank his kisses as if coming from a great thirst, moved and pressed her body to his with the urgency of one whose hunger was bottomless. As she kissed his jaw, bit at his ear, she reached for the edge of his t-shirt to remove it. 

Then he stopped her.

She looked at him with hurt betrayal.

He smiled gently. “Wench, I wish to fuck you in bed. You’d prefer it there, trust me.”

“I thought I was going to fuck you,” she whispered, trying to grab his t-shirt again.

“We fuck each other,” he told her, sitting up and pulling her to her feet with him. To her surprise, he slipped arm under her legs and carried her.

She no longer doubted his strength to carry her heavy weight. “How do you intend to fuck me that it has to be in bed?” She asked as he walked to her room. “We’ve fucked on the floor before.”

He smiled mysteriously at her. “Your back would thank me for it.”

Realizing what he meant, she hid her hot face in his neck. Her heart raced and she clung to him. “You can’t bribe me away from what I believe you should do with sex.”

“I’m offended,” he said, not sounding that he was at all. “I just want to fuck your cute ass, that’s all. What do you call that yoga position? You looked great.”

He put her down on the bed. The crisp, dry sheets reminded her of the state they were in. “We’re so sweaty,” she said consciously.

Jaime grinned and pulled off his shirt. “Dirty sex for your sexy, dirty hole, wench.”

“Hey. I am not,” she protested, glaring at him, “dirty!”

Her mild annoyance vanished as soon as Jaime stood naked and beautiful before her. Sweat made his skin gleam, render him as full-on god. Gone was the scrawny Jaime fresh from the Quiet Isle. Before her stood the Lion of Lannister, his blond hair a rich, golden mane, his eyes gleaming like all the emeralds in the world. 

His body was the perfect anatomical model. Lean and tight with muscles, with not a single ounce of fat anywhere. His chest had broadened from exercise, looking hard yet also perfect for placing your head there at the same time. Brienne licked her lips at the film of sweat between the divide of his chest. That thread of sweat continued to slide down his ridge, very tight abs before pooling in his navel. Jaime had an innie, she marveled, captivated. Oh, what she could do. Put whipped cream on him, maple syrup, chocolate liqueur. . . 

Seized by a sudden boldness, she rose to her knees and grabbed the hard globes of his ass. Jaime was startled then smirked. It melted away quickly as she nuzzled his cock, a sexy moan flitting from her lips. 

He cried out as if maimed, then gasped as her lips wrapped around his tip. He smelled thickly of sweat and musk—his curls were damp. Yet she breathed him in, her head soon clouded with his rich smell, her mouth slowly filling with his flavor. Up and down her tongue went on his shaft, her fingers stroking him madly. She could feel the rigidness of his entire body, could feel him building up as if a song approaching a crescendo. Her lips travelled to his balls, heavy and plump. She stroked his coco as she sucked his balls, moaning again. How could somebody feel and taste this good?

Being on her knees, she could only engulf him around halfway down his cock. Not enough. She was hungry. 

She started to lower her body, dragging him so that his legs would be braced by her shoulders. Realizing what she intended to do, Jaime yanked her from his cock. She whined in protest as he grabbed her by the hair painfully. Her neck was arched up, her blue eyes naked and wide as they stared at him.

“I want you, wench,” he told her, looking both furious and needy. 

“But—“

She wasn’t able to protest anymore. He kissed her, cupping her face and neck tightly as he sucked his taste from her tongue. She didn’t realize she was on her back until she felt the familiar, warm slide of linen, the mattress firm under her. Her dazed eyes could only watch as Jaime fumbled for the contents of the bedside drawer. She was dizzy from his smell, his kisses. She could smell him on her. Her head was cloudy, with only the barest sensations outside of her body registering. There was his grunt, the glide of his fingers on his cock as he rubbed lube on. Sheets rustling as he returned to her side.

Then he was back in her arms, his mouth once again on hers while they pulled her shorts down. They were sticky with sweat and drenched from her pussy. She blushed as the heavy note of her arousal wafted up from between them, Jaime closing his eyes and breathing it in as if it was the sweetest bouquet. As his fingers pushed inside her, hers closed around his cock. He was a fucking pillar. He was that hard. Slick. She whined, her begging reduced to “Jaime” and “cock” and he laughed. She would slap him but she was weak from want. 

Again they kissed, licking and sucking at each other obscenely. Her tits ached from the arousal fevering her body. All she wanted was Jaime. Jaime and his cock rutting deep. He could fuck her anywhere as long as he fucked her hard. She pulled his hand to her breast and he cupped the small mound before sliding a finger under the strap and pulling it down. 

“Oh!” She moaned as his mouth closed around her swollen nipple. Her piercings were in, heightening the sensation in her nipple. Seven above, she was lost.

She rolled to her side as Jaime continued kissing her cheek, her neck, hands pulling at her midriff until the straps were low enough to slide her arms from them, freeing her tits. As one hand continued playing with her breasts, she felt the other sliding down her back. She bent her leg close to her chest, opening herself to the first push of his cock inside her hole.

She was getting fucked there so often she was loose though Jaime, unlike Oberyn, still took care, introducing his cock slowly and carefully despite sweating bullets. Oberyn had traumatized her from anal sex before because he got very rough, once tearing her. Brienne always enjoyed roughness but not brutality. As Jaime worked himself inside her, he kept caressing her breasts, kissing her on the shoulder, behind the ear. It was difficult but she managed to slip a hand between her legs and circle her fingers around the painfully stiff button of her clit.

She was full and straining from Jaime’s cock inside her like this but she begged for more, she begged for him to take her hard. Loud gasps slipped from her lips as he pumped inside her, gingerly at first then a rapid, almost-angry pace that knocked one breath out of her after the next. Her pussy was wet from her own ministrations, her nipples were hurting from the intensity of her body’s response, peaking hard and tight. Jaime pounded inside her with fury, filling her ears with dirty compliments, filthy vows of what else he’d like to do to her, what he’d like to make her do. Her face was hot, her mind hanging between disbelief at what he was saying yet her body stirring at imagining them doing those unspeakable things.

Their bodies slapped wetly, sliding. Brienne flung an arm toward the headboard to hold on while still touching herself. Gripping her, fucking her oh so wonderfully, Jaime panted in her ear. “I’m fucking close,” he gritted out. “Tell me you’re close, wench.”  
Her tongue was thick and heavy in her mouth, she could only whimper senselessly. He breathed against her nape and surprised her by releasing the breast he was tormenting to join her hand on her pussy. 

“Fuck yourself,” he ordered her. “Trust me.”

It was the hottest thing she had ever done—fucking herself with her fingers while his cock fucked her in the ass. She did as he said and was rewarded by the brush of his fingers on her clit. She was so sensitive she could feel the whorls of his fingers. The callouses were a delicious extra. Eyes widening, she saw the world explode in a blast of white and gold. She gasped, stiffening. Through it all, Jaime held her, hips thrusting fast behind hers. He spilled inside her, a warm torrent of semen flooding her as her name was ripped from his lips in a guttural roar. 

Brienne didn’t let the divine exhaustion following their morning exertions distract her from talking to Jaime a while later. He didn’t look too pleased when she told him she had recorded the Good Morning Westeros episode featuring Wolfboyz.

“A lion does not care for wolves,” he said haughtily. He was sitting on the couch, fingers poised over the guitar. His hair was still damp from the shower. He smelled of her winter rose shampoo and peppermint soap. Brienne’s stomach was filled with dancing fairies seeing him in one of her old t-shirts, a faded navy blue one with a white unicorn in front, and her black drawstring linen pants. 

Brienne, sitting with her legs folded on an armchair, flicked the remote. Her bottom was tender, as expected, but she would let him fuckknow her there again if he wanted. But she was a woman firm on her priorities.

“You don’t have to care but you need to be prepared,” she told him. “I hate to tell you this but it’s better your hear it from me. But at the moment, all you have is a very small, very loyal fan base. Bad enough we did this record but it’s going to be worst if he won’t sell enough units or enough downloads. Much as I hate it, we need this record to be a fucking hit.”

Jaime strummed the guitar then gestured impatiently at the TV. “So what, tomorrow? I’m going to wake up at the crack of dawn for make-up? I’m going to have to play nice to that Petyr Baelish? That man is a sleaze bag.”

“Unfortunately, he’s watched by nearly the entire Westeros. He’s a big hit among the eighteen to thirty-five year olds. That’s a huge market we have to capture, Jaime.”

“I fucking hate what’s going on but wench, you make me weak in the knees with your `we,’ thing.” He gave her a dimpled smile.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna fall for that anytime soon.” Brienne fast-forwarded then sat up. “Alright. Here they are. Let’s see what they do.”

Jaime put away his guitar. “Get over here. I need to be held while I die listening to their crap.”

Brienne made a face and made herself more comfortable on the chair. “I am not going to let you fuck me to distraction again, Jaime.” 

“At least sit next to me,” Jaime patted the space beside him. “I’ll only put my hand in your shorts, nothing more.”

“No.”

“Play with your tits?”

“Will you fucking listen to the program?” She growled, pointing sharply at the TV.

Jaime grinned and touched himself. “I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“If you don’t shut up, you’re never seeing me naked again,” she snapped, heat rising in her cheeks. 

Jaime sighed loudly and Brienne threw a pillow at him. He flung it back to her then stretched out on the sofa to watch.  
The members of Wolfboyz were Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Bran Stark, Ramsay Bolton and Theon Greyjoy. Robb and Bran were brothers, Jon was their cousin. Robb was best friends with Ramsay Bolton. Theon Greyjoy was the odd duck in the bunch because he was not related nor connected to them in any way before Wolfboyz.

Jon, Robb and Ramsay were twenty-two years old, Theon was twenty and Bran was eighteen. They were all skinny, more pretty than handsome. The girls in the audience clearly thought they were gods judging from their screams as Petyr and Melisandre introduced them. Robb, with his thick, auburn ringlets and eyes as blue as Catelyn’s, had the signs of someone who will be ruggedly handsome someday. Jon had a broody appeal and his smile was shy—Melisandre was charmed by him for this. Ramsay had black hair, pale skin, and eyes of a gray so pale they were almost white. He wasn’t as handsome but he had the best singing voice in the group. Bran’s hair and eyes were dark like his cousin’s but the shape of his features were Robb’s. He was the shortest and had the cutest smile.

“So tell us, how far north do you hail from?” Petyr asked.

“Winterfell,” Robb answered. Screams greeted his answer. Laughing, he waved at them. Petyr covered his ears. “But Ramsay’s from the Dreadfort and Theon’s from the Iron Islands.”

“Tell us how you ended up in Winterfell, Theon,” Melisandre told him.

“My Dad moved us there for work,” Theon answered. 

“So you come from the Dreadfort,” Petyr said to Ramsay. “What can you tell us about it?”

Ramsay started to speak and the audience went wild again.

Jaime rubbed his ears. “Wench, you must hate me if you want my eardrums to be blasted like this.”

Brienne didn’t say anything. She didn’t dare say the likelihood of having no audience at all. 

The interview was short, tedious and often interrupted by screams. This wasn’t going to be Jaime’s audience. 

As the interview approached to a close, Petyr, smiling at the camera, smirked, “So, Wolfboyz, tell us about the song you’ll be performing.”

“It’s a song from our new album, The Hour of the Wolf,” Bran answered. “It’s the first song from our latest album and we hope you’ll like it.”

“It drops tomorrow,” Jon spoke up. “You can download it from WesTunes or go to the nearest record store to buy the CD.”

“I would like to emphasize that our album only has originals,” Robb suddenly said. “No covers or remakes or anything. It’s all us, wolves howling for the fans we love so much instead of mindlessly roaring for, well, imaginary fans.”

“Yeah. Some people are just better living under the rock because Wolfboyz is here to say!” Ramsay declared, throwing his fist in the air. The audience gave in to delirious screams.

Brienne froze. Jaime glared at the screen.

“What the fuck did those pups just say?”


	6. Kingslayer

At two in the morning, Jaime was still wide awake, his body humming with tension and adrenaline. There was the familiar strain following intense, mind-blowing sex and from the way Brienne was sprawled flat on her back with arms and legs spread wide, she was exhausted as expected. He had to fit himself awkwardly at her side since she was taking up so much space but he didn’t want to wake her. 

Watching her sleep gave him some peace, a gentle quiet that soothed his nerves. Though he had sung in many concert halls before countless audience, he was always nervous the night before a concert. He would on vocal rest the whole day, resorting to gestures and mimes, or scrawling on a portable white board to communicate. Then he went for a run to turn his mind off from the show that waited for him.

Guesting on Good Morning Westeros should be nothing. He’d done it before. It was going to be in a studio unlike the episode earlier with the fucking Wolfboyz. That controlled things a bit, and he hoped the camera just focused on his interview and performance. He couldn’t remember if GMW ever had a live studio audience. He hoped it didn’t. 

All day he and Brienne argued. The zeal and devil-may-care that prompted Jaime to take the shitty deal with Second Sons dissipated, leaving in its place an old man suddenly hit with the harsh truth that the audience he stopped caring about, and worse, the talent he took for granted, would never be recovered. He had wasted nearly two years mourning his sister, beating himself up over a guilt he didn’t deserve. The only good thing to come out of it was his relationship with Brienne but that, he was beginning to realize, was turning out to be tricky. He understood now her apprehension at pursuing the romance with him, he the talent and she his manager. But over his dead body his wench was going to be taken away. 

In the Quiet Isle, Jaime felt himself centered as he healed. As he progressed, he realized he was lost The only time he didn’t feel it was when singing, or when giving Brienne a hard time. He wanted to kick himself for letting her slip through his fingers—she had always been there. The betrayal that he initially attributed to being an arrogant ass no longer being the center of his manager’s life was actually a sharp, piercing pain in the heart. Everyone had left him at that point, when she told him about the engagement with Oberyn, and if she was going to wash her hands off him he wasn’t going to stop her. He had to cut himself off and leave to realize what a massive idiot he was. He had loved her long before but wouldn’t acknowledge it. Now that he knew, she was somebody else’s. 

Jaime longed to sing again, songs that he would be proud of. The best of him was when he was singing and if he was going to tear Brienne away from Oberyn Martell, he was going to have to reclaim his throne. It was pure luck he crashed back in her life when things weren’t going well with the couple. Jaime wouldn’t fuck a married woman but for as long as Brienne wasn’t, he was going to give his all to have her. 

And now look at him. She was right. He had more than he did before—her, the sum of everything good in his life that he didn’t deserve. He knew she didn’t just love him for his talent but there was still the fear at the back of his mind. That he’ll never be the best again. Brienne deserved only that.

So at her behest, he got on social media. They had to drum up all the free publicity they could get and this was the way. Jaime opened a Crow account, his first post the infamous old words of his house, “Hear me roar.” Before they slept, he already had fifty thousand followers. She also convinced him to set up a Quickgram, under the name JaimeKingslayer. His first photo was the one she took of him while recording “Winterfest Is All Around.” He racked up around twenty thousand followers by night’s end. She had him make another post to announce his guesting on Good Morning Westeros. 

He caressed her cheek, brushed his fingertips lightly on her lips. She had such faith in him. He wished he saw himself as she did.   
More restless than ever, Jaime kissed her on the shoulder and left the bed. He put on the t-shirt and jogging pants left in a pile on the floor and slipped on a robe. He closed the door of the bedroom.

They weren’t living together yet but he kept some stuff here already. His guitar stood in its spot by the bookshelf, ready to be played. Music relaxed him. He slipped the strap on and sat on the sofa, strumming a few random notes from his favorite songs. He didn’t sing, he just played, occasionally humming.

He played softly as he didn’t want to wake up Brienne but he heard the bedroom door opening and closing about an hour later. He paused as she stood next to him, looking like a powerful, albeit sleepy and yawning angel with her pale hair a messy halo. She was wearing robe too, loosely belted. 

“Sorry,” he whispered, still on voice rest. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Are you okay?” She asked him. Her eyes were bright with concern. 

“Just a little nervous,” he admitted, resuming his playing. He paused to pat the space beside him long enough. “Will you sit with me?”

“It’s chilly,” Brienne put her arms around herself. “Why don’t I make us some hot coco first? Would you like that?”

He smiled and nodded. She smiled back, bent to kiss him on the lips then turned to head for the kitchen.

 

After the hot coco drink, playing the guitar while Brienne sat quietly with him, the couple went back to bed. Jaime slept in Brienne’s arms, lulled to sweet dreams by the strong beat of her heart. 

She had set the alarm early as they needed to be in the studio by five-thirty a.m. Jaime was wide awake by four a.m., his body once again tensed but for a different reason. As Brienne stirred sleepily, he swept the blankets from her body and swiped his tongue across her mouth.

His balls were so full they were heavy, his cock extremely stiff and painful, pointing straight up toward his stomach. She squirmed and murmured sleepy nothings as he turned her head so he could kiss her full on the mouth, his knees pushing her legs wide open. Her kisses were lazy responses that still made his blood roar. She was sweet, the sweetest thing, and Jaime was desperate for her. Rubbing his knee against her cunt told him she was still dry so he got to work, angling her head so he could duel with her tongue while his fingers lowered to the thick cluster of rough curls below her navel. His thumb on her clit, he pushed a finger inside. She whimpered, eyes flying open and her legs closing around his wrist instinctively. Her gaze was a soft, sleepy blue and he loved her all the more when her legs slowly opened and her hips tilted up. He pushed another finger inside. 

She clung to his shoulders. _“Jaime.”_ Her moan was enough to send his entire body stiffening, for his cock to begin leaking. 

He kept kissing her as his fingers fucked her, working her to enough wetness so as not to hurt her. The gods bless him for there was soon a warm slickness easing his fingers deeper, prompting him to shove the others in as his thumb went on torturing her clit. Brienne went wild, writhing and struggling, ripping her mouth away from him to cry out and groan. Her entire body was shaking from the merciless thrust of his fingers, her face scrunched tight as she chanted his name. He felt her on the verge of orgasm and it was the hardest thing to remove his fingers from that wonderful place. Brienne wept as he left her but gasped as he rammed his cock inside her in a single thrust.

He took her hard, pinning her arms above her head with one hand. With the other, he flattened her left thigh, baring her Evenstar tattoo and opening her so widely. He swallowed her whines and her sexy, breathless pleas, rubbed his chest against her breasts. The press of her piercings against him was sharp and cool, a balm to the furnace their bodies built. She was all gasps and muffle moans until she tore her mouth away from his kisses. Blue eyes filmy, she surprised him with her passionate plea.

“Jaime, take whatever you want. Gods. I’m yours. I’m yours.” She threw her legs around his waist. _“Yours.”_

His.

She was his. 

_She’s the best part of me,_ he realized, shutting his eyes tight as his orgasm punched hard into him.

He took her one more time, hardly giving her time enough to catch her breath. There was just enough time to get dressed, Brienne’s face a vivid pink as she muttered about people scenting the sex on them. It thrilled Jaime that she decided to wear the blue suit he had made for her, but he frowned when he saw her slipping on a tank top under it.

“No,” he interjected. “It should always just be you.”

She blushed some more. “It’s not appropriate for a morning show. I know I won’t be on TV but the crew will stare.”

“Let them. Why won’t they? Look at you.” He said, loving the all-around glow radiating from her. She looked soft, somewhat. As she pulled off the white top and shouldered on the jacket, he went to the closet and took out a small velvet box. 

“I was going to wait until after the show but I would like to go on there knowing you’re wearing these,” he told her, flipping the box open. 

Brienne paused in putting on the jacket, letting it hang open. She caught her breath as she stared at the contents of the box.

Jaime took out one of the bars, the sapphire studs catching light. “I had these made. Sapphires for your eyes, wench.”

“Jaime,” she breathed, looking at him. She was clearly touched by the gift. “They’re beautiful.”

“They would be more beautiful once you wear them. May I put them on you?” He asked her. She nodded and stood still.

He removed the star piercings, putting them on the dresser. He felt her body heat up and his cock twitched under his pants too as he gently pinched her nipple between thumb and forefinger. He located holes and threaded the bar there, closing it with the stud. He did the same for the other nipple, grinning at the audible hitch in Brienne’s breath. His eyes were dark, noting the beautiful contrast of her pale, freckled skin, her tight, pink nipples and the brilliant sapphire gems. Brienne grasped him by the nape and shoulders as he dropped little kisses on her nipples, her tits. He ended the kiss with a languid slide of his tongue from between her tits, up to her neck, her chin.

He set her apart from him and stared at her, noting the flush that never seemed to vanish from her face, the brightness in her eyes brimming with pleasure and warmth. She still looked a tad sleepy and one only had to look at her swollen mouth and the red scrape of his beard across her neck and chest to know what she had been doing. She smelled like him too. Yours, she had told him. It gave him a needed confidence boost, the knowledge that not only was she his but that anyone who looked at her would know she was taken.

They arrived at the studio at exactly five-thirty. A production assistant met them and brought them to the green room, where make-up and a stylist were waiting. Jaime gave Brienne an exasperated look as the stylist unveiled a black suit with a crisp shirt. The tailoring was unmatched and it was exquisite.

“If it’s alright with you,” Jaime drawled, “I’d much rather keep on what I have now.”

It had been Brienne’s idea that he looked relaxed and himself, instead of donning a casual suit as the Wolfboyz did. Jaime did feel comfortable in his v-necked white t-shirt, though they decided together to amp up his style with slim, black leather jeans and low-heeled boots. The only accessory Jaime wore was a vintage watch Tyrion had given to him years ago. The stylist nodded but left with a huff.

As make-up was applied to him, someone knocked on the door before it opened. In came Petyr Baelish, looking more weasel-y up close. The men shook hands, both assessing each other and finding a mutual, significant lack. To Brienne, Petyr was not only all smiles. He also kissed her on the cheek. Jaime frowned in disapproval, schooling his face quickly in a placid, pleasant mask as the man turned to face him.

“I can’t wait for this new single of yours,” Petyr said, sounding too enthusiastic. Jaime didn’t trust it. “Care to tell me more about it?”

“It’s a cover,” Brienne explained. “You know the song `Love Is All Around,’ right? Jaime does a Winterfest version of it.”

If he was surprised at what Jaime was going to sing that song, he managed to hide it. Jaime was glad that someone was working on his face so he had the perfect excuse to wince. The two men talked some more before Petyr lavished attention on Brienne again. Jaime had to swallow the growl in his throat the man’s hands on her shoulders, and his gushing over The Band, wanting to know who was the winner. Brienne had wrapped shooting the last episode a week ago. Even Jaime didn’t know. 

After Baelish left, Brienne brought a glass of lukewarm water to him, with a bendy straw. He grinned at how she was fussing over him and obediently sipped. 

As he was powdered, the make-up person gushed, “Your skin is sooo smooth. I can’t believe it. And I can’t see any visible pores. What’s your secret, handsome?”

Jaime smirked as Brienne shot dagger looks at the girl. 

“Mind-blowing sex,” he replied. “Lots of mind-blowing sex.”

Without missing a beat, the girl continued, “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“If I tell you I’ll have to kill you. And you look too young to die.”

She giggled. “My name is Pia.”

Jaime saw Brienne begin to retreat so he grabbed her hand. “This is Brienne. If you want me to be nice to you, be nice to her.”

“Is she your assistant?”

Brienne glared at her and Jaime squeezed her hand.

“She’s a lot more,” Jaime was glad she squeezed back. “But this morning, she’s my manager. The woman I owe my career to.”

Pia smiled at Brienne and took a black tube. Recognizing what it was, Jaime held out a hand.

“You’re not putting any of that eyeliner gook on me. I don’t need to have pretty eyes. I’m already pretty.”

“My, oh my,” Pia purred. “You do know what you want, don’t you? I’d bet you’re king in the bedroom.”

Brienne dropped Jaime’s hand but he saw the heat in her eyes. He stared at her past Pia’s shoulder as she powdered him under his eyelids.

“I’m game for anything there,” he answered. “But only with the right person.”

“Does your lady appreciate you, handsome?”

“Oh, she clearly knows she’s mine,” he said, winking and enjoying Brienne’s blush as she scurried off to the other end of the room. “As I’m hers.”

Jaime wasn’t going to be introduced until an hour into the program. During that time, he and Brienne just chilled in the room. Neither touched the food laid out there, both of them anxious. When the PA who welcomed them earlier peeked in, they knew it was time.

They strolled down the hallway. Brienne quickly made her way toward the cameras, wanting to watch Jaime from the screen. Token, recorded applause was played as Jaime approached Petyr and Melisandre.

“Jaime, welcome to the show,” Melisandre was looking at him with half-lidded eyes meant to convey seduction. It was irritating. “Petyr and I are so glad to have you with us.”

“It’s great to be here,” he answered politely. “Thank you for having me.”

“So, Jaime, it’s been a while since we last saw you. What is Kingsguard up to lately?” Petyr asked.

Brienne warned him he would be asked about the band. Kingsguard had yet to issue a formal announcement that they had disbanded. 

“You can see that my manager, Brienne Tarth, is working with my bandmate Rhaegar Targaryen on The Band,” Jaime answered smoothly. “The rest of us are just taking a break. Sandor’s about to become a father, Stannis and Loras—we’re all doing our own thing.”

“Please don’t tell me Kingsguard is over,” Melisandre said, pleading prettily. “`Battle at Trident’ is my absolute favorite!”

Jaime turned the full force of his smile at her. Melisandre actually stepped back. “That’s nice to hear, thank you.”

“So, Jaime,” Petyr said. “Tell us about the song you’ll being singing for us. I hear it’s going to be a cover of a well-loved classic?”

Well-loved my ass, Jaime thought. He was looking straight at the camera and Brienne was standing right next to the guy controlling it. She was biting her lip and her chest was gleaming with sweat. 

Be nice, she told him. And if Baelish ropes in those fucking wolves in the discussion, stay above it. 

“Yes.” Jaime decided to keep his answer brief.

“Uh,” Melisandre and Petyr looked thrown at his unexpectedly monosyllabic answer. She glanced at her co-host, who nodded subtly.

“We’ve heard rumors,” she began haltingly. “Apparently, this is, uh, a surprising choice, given, your, ah, reputation. You’re the Kingslayer.”

“Well, that’s the great thing about being an artist. You do get known for doing a particular thing, in my case, singing in a certain genre, but just because this is something that you’re known for doesn’t mean you’re limited to it. An artist should never confine himself. You have to keep people guessing.”

“That’s an interesting answer,” Petyr remarked. “Considering that, ah, your cover of ‘Love Is All Around’ has not been welcomed as expected of a singer. . .of your reputation.” 

“My single hasn’t dropped yet. But I would be happy to sing it if you’ll let me.” Ah. Brienne nodded in approval and Jaime was pleased to please her. He was Mr. Smooth.

“Ah, yes. It will be available on WesTunes on December 2,” Melisandre said, nodding at the camera. 

“How do you feel that your single is being pitted against the Wolfboyz, Jaime?” Petyr suddenly asked.

“Is that what it is?” Jaime drawled, feeling Brienne panicking. “I saw the program yesterday—“

“Oh, you watch the show?” Melisandre beamed at him, tucking a lock of her dark red hair behind her ear. Jaime had to struggle from making a face.

“Yes. As I was saying, I don’t sense that we’re in competition. It’s really funny what they were saying yesterday. I just find them funny. They're so young. ”

Petyr was again thrown. “You think they’re funny?”

“Oh, please. They’re young and on their what, first, second album? You can’t blame these boys for coughing up some phantom competition when there’s no point.”

“Why do you say that?”

Jaime’s smile was cool. Brienne was biting her nails and shaking her head at him.

“Need I say more about myself? I believe my body of work speaks for itself.” Jaime said. “Besides,” he looked right at the camera. “I don’t listen to the bleating of sheep.”


	7. Reining in the Lion

They did their first round of morning shows that day, Jaime engaging in mindless small talk to promote the single before he got onstage to perform. They finished at ten in the morning. They had an hour to kill before heading over to Whee! studios. Whee! was Westeros’ pop culture celebrity and entertainment news show. Among the things to do today, this was the most important as it was broadcast live not only in Westeros but to Essos and Sothoryos as well, with a replay later at night. 

Jaime was not open to the idea of hitting a hotel for breakfast, or any public establishment. He instructed the limo driver to take them to the nearest drive thru for cheeseburgers and sodas. He was working on the last of his fries when Brienne hustled him to the studio with only a few minutes before their call time.

 

She was not happy with his behavior in the shows and made no attempt to hide it. Jaime barely escaped Petyr Baelish’s bait. Try as she did to remind Jaime in between driving to the shows and make-up to stick to talking about the single and nothing else, he would only nod and do the exact opposite shortly. She understood that Wolfboyz’s attack was particularly wounding to Jaime but celebrity feuds were a waste of time. They were messy, they got people talking negatively and did no favors to anyone involved. It threw off their focus in re-establishing Jaime’s career and a rock star fighting it out with immature pretty boys was only going to bite him in the ass. 

Being back on the road with Jaime reminded her how stubborn and immature he could be. The man did not know how to back down from a challenge. Any challenge. 

“Is this how my life is going to be now that I’m a fucking pop star?” Jaime drawled as a stylist held out a black suit jacket behind him for his arms to slip through. His expression was bored as he regarded Brienne. “I thought we were going to convey that I don’t fucking care about what people think. You’re putting me in a monkey suit.”

He was also a whiner. Brienne sighed loudly as the stylist, one of those anonymous people hired for the day, flattened and patted the jacket so it settled on his frame evenly. Pia had been hired for the day and she was quick to take over and pat powder on his face to take out the shine.

“That’s hardly a monkey suit,” Brienne refused to get into an argument with him. He was angling for one. With every show they were on, his temper got shorter, his sarcasm more biting. She was thankful that though his temper tend to get the best of him at times, he knew when to unleash the full force of his charm. If Melisandre looked about to swoon when he shot her just the smallest smile, Missandei in GabWest was ready to have his babies. Even her co-host, Grey Worm, looked a little dazzled in Jaime’s presence. 

The suit Jaime now wore was a tailored black ensemble, paired with a crisp, white linen shirt with pearl buttons. He only let the stylist blow-dry his hair and refused to have anything more done to it. He had also looked ready to murder the poor girl when she offered to shave off his scruff. The effect of the longish blond hair, scruff and the DNA the gods blessed Jaime with was a handsome figure that was appealingly rough around the edges. He looked the sort to grab beer with husbands yet also knock their wives to the ground and fuck them senseless. 

“Please give us a minute,” Brienne told Pia and the stylist. The two women quickly made themselves scarce. 

She waited until the door closed behind them before turning her attention to Jaime. He stared back at her with arrogant nonchalance before his eyes heated and he advanced toward her. She stepped back and shook her head firmly, surprising him. Seeing the seriousness on her face, he sat down.

“Alright. Let’s have it.”

The thing was, there was something else she wanted to speak to him about. Pia Pia who had been flirting with him all day long. Brienne hated the jealousy eating up at her. Though Jaime was simply playing along and was getting annoyed, he wasn’t stopping her either. And why would he, she thought. Pia was everything Brienne would never be. She was pretty with full tits, a curvy waist, small. Yet she set this aside and focused on what mattered more. 

“Promise me one thing after your sermon, wench,” Jaime said. He winked at her. “Promise me you’ll kiss me and we’ll have a quickie. Can you believe it’s been hours since I last kissed you? The sun wasn’t even up yet. That’s the longest I’ve gone without your kisses.”

“Could you stop thinking with your cock for a moment? We have a serious matter to discuss.” 

“Wanting to kiss you isn’t serious?”

Ignoring him, Brienne showed him her tablet. “The news has picked up your interview in Good Morning Westeros. The video of your performance is already on WeTube. It’s being shared all over and people are liking and commenting. And . . “ her voice trailed off, her face and neck flushing. 

Jaime sighed and glanced at the screen. “Let me guess. People are basically saying the song sucks.”

“That’s because you said it does!”

“Would you rather I lie and tell everyone it’s the greatest song ever recorded?”

“No. But you didn’t have to tell Waking Up with Varys that doing it was beneath you!” Gods, she nearly fainted during that one. The camera had captured Varys’ shock too. People were quick to make memes of it and spread them.

“The man asked how it compares to my previous work. Did you really think I was going to say that it kicked The _Lady Is A Wench’s_ ass? That _The Rains of Castamere_ was nothing?”

“I gave you a list of things to say when asked questions like that.” 

“You did. It doesn’t mean I have to follow.”

“Yes you do.” Brienne glared at him and shut her tablet before setting it down on the table. “You charged me with helping you recover your career. To do that we got this fucking turd of a deal. This single has to be a hit so we can get better work, Jaime. How do you think your antics are helping that?”

“Well, people are talking, aren’t they?”

Yes. People were talking. #bleatingofsheep was trending in Crow right now. 

“But they’re not talking about what they should be talking about!” Brienne was so frustrated she stomped her foot. “They should be saying, `this song is shit but Jaime Lannister, what a voice!’ Instead they’re saying you’re selling crap and making no apologies for being a fucking sellout. Do you think they’ll buy the record?”

"I would like the little fans I have left to think that I still have enough integrity to give them a choice whether they want to buy that fucking excuse of a song or not. Hells, if I had integrity I wouldn’t be doing this at all,” he gestured at his suit. “You and I both know this is wrong.”

“We could have gotten out of this. I told you I’d do it but you wouldn’t let me.”

“That’s because I’ve already given my word. It doesn’t matter that I can pay them off. If I reneged on that contract, do you think I’d still be able to get out of the house? I’m a Lannister. I don’t care about what people think but what I think of myself matters a great deal. I thought you knew that about me.”

“And what about what I think?” She demanded. “How do you think I feel that you promise to do as I ask only for you to break that as soon as you’re in front of the camera.”

“I meant what I said to you,” Jaime rose to his feet. “Every word. I would like to keep those, Brienne, but come on.”

_“That’s all you have to say?”_

“I’ve said enough.”

“Telling people this record is shit is not helping you.”

“Why is it so important to you?”

“You just emphasized to me that it’s very important to you. For someone who cares a great deal about honor, you only seem to focus on honoring yourself, not what you say to me. If you really believe it, then you’ll do it. Don’t make me out to be stupid, Jaime.” 

“I am not.” Jaime clasped her by the shoulders. “This is difficult for me.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She demanded, brushing his hands away. He watched her turn from him, clueing him in that his recent actions have displeased her a lot. 

But Jaime could be as stubborn as she was relentless. He didn’t like to be told, didn’t like even more when told he was making a fool of himself. They stared at each other, neither intending to give way. How many situations had they been like this? A lot.There had never been a clear winner. They came out even. 

“You should let me do it the way I see fit,” he insisted. 

“It’s backfiring on us, Jaime! I understand. You hate this song. I understand that you don’t want people to buy it. You refuse to fool your fans. Unfortunately, this song is all we have so we can get you back to where you belong. Don’t you see? I hate having to tell you the things I’ve been telling you to do. I know it isn’t you. But this is _all_ we have.”

“Come now,” Jaime took her hand and squeezed it, reminding her of what she had said a few weeks ago. “I thought it was more than that.”

“It is. I just . . .Jaime, I don’t want you hurt. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

She leaned her forehead against his. That was the heart of it. She would do anything to spare him that.

“Wench,” Jaime whispered as she put her arms on his shoulders. She had her eyes closed but she imagined his tender gaze, his sweet, fond smile. 

“Do I want to get back on the stage? Yes. I fucking do. But I think you believe I want it more than _this,”_ he kissed her lightly on the lips. “It’s a thing to watch, really, seeing you working so hard just to give me what I want. But you’re what I truly want, wench. Above all, it’s you. I swear it.”

“Singing makes you happy.” She pulled away a bit to look at him. 

“Yes. And so does being with you. In ways I never imagined.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I’m still finding out, anyway.”

She blushed. That Jaime wanted her, that he loved her—they had been together for months but those things were something she still had to get used to. 

“I understand you, Jaime. I do. I think I do. I will never ask you to compromise your integrity,” she told him. “But could you try not to be baited about the Wolfboyz? They’re silly. They’re not worth your time.”

“I don’t like to be ridiculed.” He muttered. 

“Nobody does. I’m not saying you ignore them completely but there are ways of meeting them head-on without being obvious.”

Jaime pulled her close again and brushed his lips against hers. He smirked at her warming face when his cock brushed against her thigh. “Oh, do tell, my lady wench. I never pegged you for being manipulative but it’s seriously turning me on right now. I never know what to expect from you.” 

“I am not!” She protested. “Don’t you ever tell me I’m like that. I’m not.” Her blue eyes flashed fiercely.

He kissed her. “You are not. I apologize.”

“Stop telling people it sucks. It is a cheesy song but have you heard yourself sing it?”

He frowned. “I’d rather not.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Sometimes, I feel that you’d reach the point where you strap a pillow around me just so I don’t get bruised when bumping into things. I don’t need protecting, Brienne. I don’t need you to be nice and accommodating. The truth is what I expect of you. As my manager, my girlfriend, my best friend.”

“Fine.” Brienne said, trying unsuccessfully to fight off her blush. “Maybe I get a tad too protective—“

“A tad? Really?”

“Can you blame me? The littlest thing can set you off. Look what’s happening now. Wolfboyz made a particularly stupid comment and look how you respond to it. Again, I’m not saying you ignore it. You’re never going to do that. I only ask that you pick your battles. You don’t have to fight them all.And I'm being honest about the way you sound singing that song.”

“I don’t need protection in any way.”

“Then stop acting like a child.”

“You stop treating me like a child.”

“Only if you listen.”

“When, for the love of the Seven, have I not listened?”

“Having it go through one ear to exit the other is not listening. You may not do as I ask, but will you at least consider them? That’s all I ask. For you not to be your rash self. To actually weigh things first before springing into action. To spring into action less.”

They were still holding hands when someone knocked on the door. “Mr. Lannister, you’re up.”

Jaime called out, “I’ll be right out.” But he continued to hold her hand, look in her pleading eyes.

“I need your word, Jaime.” Brienne said. 

“I’m the Kingslayer.”

“Jaime, please.”

“I trust you.” He said, hauling her close to his chest suddenly. “But do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s all you need to know, Brienne.” He kissed her again, deeper and more passionately this time. She swayed and he had to catch her lest they both crash to the floor. She quickly stepped back. 

“I trust you.” She whispered.

Jaime looked at her from head to toe, lingering on her guileless eyes looking bluer, her trembling lips. He seemed about to say something that would infuriate her, just because. The sparkle in his eyes told her he was getting to it but at the last second changed his mind. His next words surprised her.

“Fuck.” He looked exasperated and something else at once. She couldn’t describe it. Jaime gave her a once-over and said, in a resigned, long-suffering tone, “The things I do for love.”

Then he turned and left. Brienne, confused as to whether she got through him or not, stared at the door scratching her head.


	8. Things I Do for Love

Jaime strolled out into the set of Whee!to howling and applause from the crew and the show’s many co-hosts. He smiled, dimples deep, the corners of his green eyes crinkling as he faced the camera before he went to the portion of the set with a an elegant sofa, a glass-topped coffee table. Two of Whee!’s hosts would be interviewing, the slinky, beautiful Mirelle with her crop of copper curls and come-hither smile and the cool, smirking Ros, a redhead who was looking at Jaime as if he were her favorite cut of steak, cooked according to her specifications. That was a little off-putting but Jaime was used to women staring at him like so and it didn’t take much to tap into charm mode.

“So, Jaime Lannister,” Ros began, as they all sat down. She was wearing a short-sleeved dress consisting of a black midriff and a high-waisted matching skirt. Delicate, high-heeled sandals were on her feet. Jaime thought it was a little too much but if Brienne were in such an outfit, he wouldn’t mind. It was just too overt for his taste. 

“You’ve been having a very busy morning. We’re worried you haven’t saved any of that wonderful energy for us,” she continued, winking at him.

“It depends on what you’ll have me do,” he replied. Patting his seat, he said, “But if it’s just this, lounging around and talking to you ladies, we won’t have any trouble.”

“So tell us about your latest single,” Mirelle said. “A lot of people find your choice very interesting.”

“I’ve always believed that as an artist, you shouldn’t limit yourself to just doing one thing. Doing a cover is unexpected, I know. But hey, I gotta keep you guys guessing.”

Ros nodded. “You did take us by surprise.”

“But have you listened to it?” Mirelle asked her. To Jaime, she nodded. “It’s good. Did you pick the song yourself?”

Jaime knew he had to sidestep that a bit. “It was the perfect song to do a cover of because Winterfest is just five weeks away.” He shrugged, put on an aw-shucks-ma’am smile. “And everyone does love Winterfest.”

“Gods, you are so charming,” Mirelle gushed. She was smiling at Jaime as if ready to serve him her eggs in a platter. “Isn’t he?”  
“Thank you,” Jaime said, still wearing the smile.

“The Wolfboyz don’t seem to share the sentiment,” Ros said.

Fuck. Jaime couldn’t believe he was getting it from all sides. Brienne admonishing him to grow up, be a man and just do what needed to be done regardless of those stupid cubs. Second Sons pushing him to sell that fucking turd of a single. And now this. From some celebrity host who knew next to nothing about music and relied on a teleprompter for what to say. He was close to losing his temper, actually. But if he gave in to that, not only was Brienne going to be disappointed in him. He would be hurting her. 

“Listen, I make no promises that everyone will like the song but me and the producers made the best cover of a well-loved classic. I stand firmly by that.”

“But that’s not what you were saying earlier,” she pointed out. Mirelle’s eyes widened and she was clearly panicking. She shot her co-host a warning look before turning to Jaime. 

“Jaime,” she said too loudly, making him jump. “Tell us when the single will be available.”

“It will be available for download on WesTunes on December 2. The CD will be available for purchase the day after that in your nearest record stores. It has other mixes of the song, as well as a High Valyrian version.”

“Oh! Ros, he sang it in High Valyrian!” Mirelle marveled. Oh, yeah. She was looking at Jaime like she wanted him to father her children. 

“But, Jaime, for our viewers who are no doubt confused with your sudden one hundred eighty degree turn—“ Ros began. Jaime interrupted her.

“Doing something new isn’t the easiest thing although yeah, to reiterate, as an artist, you must experiment. That’s how you and your art evolve. It’s not something I ever expected to do and I was resistant to it until a few hours ago. Since then I’ve had a change of heart. Is it the best song ever? I’ll let you be the judge of that. But I worked hard on it. I hope you’ll like it.” The last line he said facing the camera.

“Wolfboyz’s album of Winterfest-themed songs are already available. It’s looking like it will be the season’s number one. How do you feel about that?” Ros asked, changing tactics.

“The guys only had a couple of days on me. It’s too early to tell,” Jaime answered, lounging in his seat and meeting her challenging stare head-on. “If by some miracle, my song makes it to number one that’s pretty great. I owe it to the fans. But whether it makes number one or not, I will be donating my entire share of the profits to the Westeros Children’s Fund.”

 

“I love you!” Brienne exclaimed as soon as he had shut the door of the green room and found himself in a fierce embrace by his wench. “Gods, Jaime, I so fucking love you!”

He laughed as she peppered his face and neck with random kisses, murmuring she loved him over and over again. He started kissing her back, his lips pressing on random freckles on her face and neck before crushing her lips. She moaned, a sexy and filthy sound that sent his cock twitching madly. He cupped his hands under her perky ass and heaved her up in his arms. 

“Really?” She gasped in disbelief as he set her down hard on the make-up table. 

He grinned and unbuttoned her suit jacket. Ah. The Seven bless single-button suit jackets, and thank the Seven that this blue-eyed wench viewed undergarments as optional. Despite her question, she unbuttoned her pants while he started loosening the belt holding his.

“Don’t you want to?” He asked as he dropped his pants to the floor while she only kicked one leg free and used it to draw her close. 

“I am so proud of you, so happy that I’ll let you do whatever you want to me,” she promised heatedly, once again kissing him frantically around the face.

He scooped her hips up so she could wrap both legs around him. His cock brushed against her warm inner thigh. “You like what I did, huh?”

“Fucking brilliant,” she declared, blue eyes flaming with desire, her face red from desire. “You do have your moments, Lannister.”

They grinned at each other before he kissed her gently on the lips. “You must be rubbing off on me, wench.”

“Of course I am. Lots of my good sense. Oh, Jaime, it was so sweet of you to offer all your earnings for donation. You make me so mad one minute then just unable to resist you in the next.” 

They fucked with urgent frenzy. There was no need for foreplay because their bodies had been unconsciously ready for this, were always ready for this. Jaime couldn’t get enough of Brienne’s mouth, she couldn’t stop touching him and whispering she loved him whenever she was free long enough from the storm of his hot kisses. Gods, when had Brienne ever been like this? He knew she was crazy about him, but not like this. Never like this until now. And discovering that philanthropy was a huge turn-on for his wench was doing wonderful things to his cock. He was so hard he could probably fuck a hole on the table she was sitting on. The grip of her thighs around his hips was going to leave him bruised, the hungry swallowing and merciless clutch of her pussy leaving him with a sore cock later. 

Brienne opened her mouth to scream her release and he was quick to smother it with a kiss. Oh, what he would do for the public to know about him and Brienne, but not like this, out of consideration to her. He didn’t mind but Brienne would. He raised her from the table, assuring her with kiss after kiss that he could take her solid, heavy weight. Her bottom and the backs of her thighs would be marked by his fingers but gods damn it, it was beyond Seven Heavens fucking her like this—Brienne up in the air, holding on to him, her eyes big with disbelief, holding her so tightly. The sapphire studs around her nipples were boring tiny holes onto his shirt, marking his skin but he didn’t loosen his grip—not until he roared against her tongue. He threw her against the mirror and he came, his vision a flood of white light before making out the sapphire orbs of her beautiful eyes, dazed and bright as he filled her. 

With a throaty grunt, Brienne collapsed against the glass, her arms and legs falling from him. Jaime rested his head on her sweaty shoulder, warm puffs of air drifting from his lips. As soon as they were able to catch their breath, he reluctantly pulled away from her but kept his half-erect cock inside her. 

“Did I hurt you?” He was gentle in pulling her away from the mirror.

She shook her head. Her smile was dreamy and beautiful. “I’m strong enough.”

When she smiled at him like that, with such joy and love, he believed he could do anything he set his mind to. He shivered as she touched his cheek, a finger brushing away the tendril of his blond hair falling across his forehead.

“You love me,” he said, awed. She had said those words to him before but the thrill of hearing it was never going to get old. 

“Oh, no,” she joked. “I only use you for sex.”

“Given what we just did, that could be true,” he rejoined. “But you’re not a horrible person, Brienne. You’re perfect in every way.”

She laughed and gestured at her still-flushed face. “If I get any redder, I’m going to self-combust.”

He helped her off the table. There was a box of tissue so she drew a couple of sheets to wipe away his mess from between her legs. As Jaime zipped up his pants, he enjoyed the sight of Brienne awkwardly hopping on one foot to slide her other leg into the pants. She complained that her back was sweaty and the lining of the suit jacket was sticking to her. Jaime offered her his discarded t-shirt. His street clothes have been packed and he was told earlier that he could keep the suit and the shoes. 

They left the green room and the show’s staff and cast came up to them for autographs and photos. No one took note of their flushed faces—or were too polite, probably. Brienne gamely collected cellphones to take photos with, pink with pleasure at Jaime’s own pleasure. Out in the street, a few people stopped them and she revisited the role. 

In the limo, she took off her shoes, sighing and massaging her feet. Jaime patted his lap. “Legs here, wench.” 

She pretended to kick him. “Brienne.”

“Of course, my lady wench,” he said as she rested her legs on his lap. He reached for her feet and rubbed them. 

“Thank you,” she told him gratefully.

That was what made Brienne so appealing to him. She expected little to nothing, never took anything for granted. Jaime wished she would expect more from him as she had the right to, and he would like her to assert that more. But there was pleasure in watching her reaction to a gesture that, for him, was normal. He was her boyfriend, a bratty, self-absorbed asshole. She had been babysitting him all day. The least he could do was massage her big, weary feet. He was hardly fit to kiss them but he would bloody well try. 

As Brienne relaxed, Jaime racked his brain for a way to break to her something that had been nagging him for a couple of days. Given how she had reacted before about them going public, he laid off about inviting her out for a proper date. They have been together for nearly three months and they haven’t gone out for a meal or even a movie date—the weekend at the Vale didn’t count. Fucking Brienne was becoming his absolute favorite thing to do but as crass and vulgar he could get in the bedroom, it had been drilled in his head at an early age that a proper gentleman respected his lady. And one way of showing that was by inviting her to a nice dinner. 

Technically, what he was about to tell her wasn’t exactly a date. But he needed her there. He relied on her strength and tenacity, qualities he was sorely lacking in. And though she would give him a hard time about it, he did need her to keep him in line and get him to do the right thing. Maybe it smacked of neediness on his end but being with Brienne was what made him good. And as he had just realized, she was the best part of him. 

As he debated how to break to her a potential game-changer in their relationship, Brienne began to talk.

“Tomorrow we have one more morning show,” she said, scrolling through the schedule in her cellphone. “You’re visiting three radio stations tomorrow for an interview then you’re going on Night’s Watch and The Late, Late Show for more interviews and performances.” 

“And here I thought I was too pretty for radio,” Jaime joked.

“We should get in touch with the Westeros Children’s Fund,” she told him. “Like along with your donation we could also have a fundraiser of some sort for them.”

“I don’t know,” Jaime said after a moment. “I have no problem with making a donation. That’s happening. Every stag will be going to them. But can’t I just, you know, drop it off anonymously?”

“Well . . .” Brienne chewed her lip.

“I get that the fundraiser is also a way to promote the song but. . .it’s not sincere. It’s like I’m pushing my agenda at the expense of the children.”

“How about if we set up a link in your website and social media accounts so that people can donate too?” She wondered out loud.

“That’s works for me.”

She scooted forward and kissed him. “I really am proud of you.”

He beamed at her. “Thanks. I confess to feeling the same.” Last Year Jaime would have continued being a whiny bastard. Jaime This Year had listened to Brienne and on his own, hit on the idea of having something good come out of a crap song that was not solely his. It made him feel warm and fuzzy. His wench’s doing, he thought. 

They arrived home. While Jaime headed for the front door, Brienne reviewed the next day’s arrangements with the driver. They were staying over at his house tonight.

He spied a small package by the door. He tucked it under his arm and went inside the house. He went to the living room, sitting on the couch to open the package. Brienne followed a few minutes later, holding her shoes in her hand. She looked at Jaime just as he retrieved a brightly-colored bag of bubble gum from the box.

“Dornish Surprise,” she could easily read the colorful label. “I loved that as a kid.”

Jaime saw a brigh pink sticky note on the package. In his messy scrawl, Stannis Baratheon had written, “Congratulations on your new career, cunt.”

Of course. A moment of happiness was all it took for the bad to take over. He threw the bag of candy on the table. Brienne padded toward him, gave him a look and picked it up. She read Stannis’ note.

“Fuck him,” she muttered, crumpling the paper and tossing the bag down on the table. “Are you okay?”

Jaime was suddenly very tired. Defending yourself and controlling your temper took a lot out of you. It felt like he’d just been to battle and only escaped due to sheer luck. Brienne sat down beside him, her hand on his knee.

“Well, I did say not everyone will like the song.” His attempt to lighten the situation was pathetic. 

“Fuck Stannis,” Brienne told him. Her loyalty. Another reason why he was so crazy in love with her. 

He chuckled and rested his head on the back of the sofa. 

“I guess this isn’t also the time to tell you that Tywin Lannister has summoned me to Casterly Rock?”


	9. Two Lions

Tired and sleepy from their morning activities, Jaime went upstairs to take a nap. Brienne was used to having little sleep and was on her phone or laptop, making and answering calls, writing and replying to emails. She was devouring a tuna sandwich monitoring online and social media mentions of Jaime when someone rang the doorbell. With great reluctance, she put the sandwich back on the plate and answered the door.

It was difficult determining who was more surprised between them—Brienne staring bug-eyed at Tyrion, realizing what she must look like, Tyrion staring up at her with his mouth hanging open, recognizing Jaime’s faded University of Westeros t-shirt on her as well as the ripped, baggy jeans. Her cheeks burned remembering she had yet to take a shower. Her suit had been warm with the smell of Jaime’s cologne and their fucking. With Tyrion standing at the level of her crotch, she hoped to the Seven he didn’t smell his brother on her.

He was the first to recover. Picking up his jaw, he pushed his shoulders back and asked, “Hello, Brienne. Is Jaime around?”

“Sure.” She stepped aside and he shuffled in. Tyrion was only four-foot-five but walked in any room as if he were twice as tall. Jaime tend to saunter but the brothers could own any room they were in without batting an eyelash. There was little resemblance between them, Jaime having gotten all the good looks while Tyrion was left with the grotesque bits. His hair was a rumple of rough-looking white-blond hair, and his eyes mismatched, one green and one so dark it must be black. He wore a three-piece dark brown suit, tailored to his size and build. Despite the expensive clothes and radiating with power, there was no denying that he was ugly, the man of your worst nightmares. 

However, Tyrion was known for being mentally astute and being more cunning than Tywin. While Tywin’s rough, dictatorial manner had led to a strained relationship between him and his children, Tyrion was the sibling that they all got along with. Even Cersei. 

Closing the door, Brienne added, “I’ll just get him, okay?”

He smiled. “There’s no rush.”

Still, she hurried upstairs. Jaime was sprawled facedown on the bed, naked as usual. She touched him gently on the shoulder. He smiled sleepily, looking like a naughty, mischievous child.

“Have you come for my cock, wench?” He murmured, turning on his back. His eyes were still closed but he pulled her down to him by her hand. Before she could stammer a reply, he was pressing her mouth down to his, a hand roaming her back, her waist, down her buttocks. 

“Uh, Jaime—“ she tried to say between kisses. She was bigger and stronger and could slide away from his embrace but her body refused. Giggling, she held him by the ears and pulled him away from where he was sucking at her neck. Jaime blinked back at her then yawned. 

“Evil wench,” he pouted, kissing her shoulder then down, nuzzling her tits through the t-shirt.

She bit her lip hard as he licked her nipple through the cotton. “Tyrion is here.”

He groaned and pushed his head under the pillow. She kissed him on the cheek, down to the crook of his neck where he was warm then nuzzled the hard bunch of muscles on his arm. Playfully biting the taut flesh, she murmured, “Come on, Jaime.”

“I know why he’s here.” He grumbled.

“Don’t keep him waiting. It’s rude.” She nipped at his jaw and sat back on her heels, pulling him up with her. “Get dressed.”  
As Jaime continued to mumble, she went back downstairs. Tyrion was walking around, his small hands in the pockets of his pants. She slowed as she neared him, once again remembering what her presence, and Jaime’s clothes on her, meant to Tyrion. They were not a secret but they haven’t exactly talked about having others know about them after the weekend at the Vale. 

“Can I get you anything?” She asked him. “Coffee? Or would you like a sandwich?”

Tyrion’s smile was kind “Thanks for the offer but no thanks. How are you, Brienne? You look good.” He scanned her up and down. “Better than good, come to think of it. You’re glowing.”

She bowed her head and retreated to her work station in the living room. She heard him following her. “Um, it’s work. This is work I like.”

Sitting down on the sofa, she reached for her tablet to answer another email. A quick look at Tyrion over her lashes showed him giving her a knowing look.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaime’s loud, annoyed voice came from the stairs as he stomped down. Wearing a long-sleeved green t-shirt and gray track pants, he looked rumpled and pissed. He sighed loudly at the sight of his brother and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Lemme guess. You’re acting as Father’s fucking emissary.”

“You haven’t seen him since you returned from the Quiet Isle,” Tyrion pointed out as Jaime flopped on the sofa next to Brienne. To her shock, he flung an arm around her shoulders and kissed her soundly on the cheek.

“I have no problem not seeing him for another long time,” Jaime answered. His smile at Brienne was dazzling as she frowned at him. Jaime had not seen his father for months. She wasn’t sure if he had seen him before he left either. “By the way, Tyrion, Brienne and I are together now.”

“That isn’t exactly news,” Tyrion said, waving his hand but giving Brienne a warm, friendly glance. He helped himself up on an armchair and gave Jaime an admonishing look. “The old man has to see you for himself. I’m sick of explaining you. I’m tired of making excuses for you. He’s not the easiest man around, true, but as luck have it, Tywin Lannister is our father.”

“I’m not really looking forward to getting attacked for a decision I made regarding my career. I’m getting slammed on all sides.”  
“He just wants to understand.”

Jaime’s laugh was bitter. “No. You and I know it’s not that. He wants the facts straight from the horse’s mouth then find a way in. He’s never forgiven me for turning back from our fucking business empire. Among other things.”

“Be careful when riding a lion, Brienne,” Tyrion told her. “Lions never forget. They always pay their debts.”

“See why I don’t want to see him?” Jaime told her.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Brienne asked.

Jaime flushed and Tyrion crossed his arms. “Go on, Jaime. Tell her.”

Jaime glared at him and said quickly. “Cersei.”

“What? You haven’t seen your Father since the funeral?” Brienne demanded.

“He blames me for Cersei’s death,” Jaime explained. 

Tyrion looked aghast. “Where’d you get that idea?”

“Oh, I don’t know, baby brother. Maybe because he told me that coddling our sister and taking her on tour gave her unnecessary stress. Ask him yourself. I don’t know if he’s more upset because she died or the car accident mutilated her corpse.” 

“Father isn’t known for his tact but he wouldn’t say that to you. You’re the golden son.”

“Fuck that.”

Brienne, realizing that the brothers were treading on sensitive ground, started to squirm away from Jaime’s hold. “Uh, you have a lot to talk about. I should go home—“

“No. Do not leave me,” Jaime said, holding her fast.

“You don’t have to leave,” Tyrion assured her.

“This is a family matter,” she reminded them. “A private family matter. It’s alright, really. I have a lot of work to do—“

“You’re my family,” Jaime declared. “I love you. I fuck you. Don’t go. I need you.”

She stared back at him, shocked. 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Hey, you’ve got company. Save the dirty talk for when I’m not around, will you?”

Brienne looked helplessly at the brothers. “I’m in the way.”

“You are not,” Jaime protested. “Please. Stay with me.”

“You know,” Tyrion said carefully, watching the lovers communicate quietly with their eyes. “There might be a way to make dinner with Father. . .more palatable.”

“I am not going to hide behind Brienne nor am I going to do anything to make that very unpleasant experience easier because I have no intention of going.” 

“Whatever Father said to you, put yourself in his shoes. He was grieving. He and Cersei didn’t have an easy relationship either but she was still his daughter. So he lashed out. Who wouldn’t. I have no love for our sister but I do regret she died so horribly. Jaime, Father is reaching out. To you. He’s an old man.”

“I don’t care if he’s dying.”

“He’s going to outlive us all by sheer will. Come on. You can’t allow what was said to keep you apart any longer.” 

Once again, Brienne tried to get away. Jaime grabbed her hand.

 _“Stay.”_ This time he was pleading.

Brienne looked at him then at Tyrion.

“I don’t know what’s really going on,” she said carefully. “But it’s clear there’s a lot of damage and. . .I don’t know if I should know about it at this point. I don’t know if I’m even helping.”

“I need you.” Was all Jaime said. So she sat back down.

Brienne had a close relationship with her Father, Selwyn. She would always miss him. The Lannister dynamic was unfamiliar to her despite having known Jaime and Tyrion for years. As manager, she stayed away from anything that did not involve Kingsguard. Being manager and now, Jaime’s girlfriend, was teaching her that both roles were difficult to balance at times but it all boiled down to Jaime needing her, and doing what was best for him. She wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Bring Brienne to dinner,” Tyrion said. He smiled at her. “Nothing gets the old lion more excited than the prospect of more progeny.”

Brienne reddened and Jaime immediately held up a hand. “Hold on—“

“Fine. It’s the early days of your romance yada-yada. But I’m right about this,” Tyrion nodded. “Yep. I can see it. Brienne, see to it that my brother sees the sense in burying the hatchet instead of claws into our difficult Father.”

“I don’t take orders from you, Tyrion.”

Tyrion ignored her. “Jaime, don’t wait until Father’s at your door. You know I’m right about this.”

Jaime winced. He didn’t want his father to set foot in his home. Tywin tainted things with his presence. A difficult man, Tyrion had described him. Always his agenda was furthering family interests. Improving the family’s status. He had become worse with Joanna’s death and was cruel at how Jaime may have indirectly robbed him of the possibility of more heirs through Cersei. To think the man lifted not a single finger in helping his daughter deal with her guilt about her mother’s death. If he only knew what she became towards the end. 

“We’re busy,” Jaime answered. “Perhaps it’s escaped your notice but at the moment, we’re trying to recover my career. If I still have one left.”

“Your weekends are free, aren’t they?”

But Jaime wouldn’t be cowed. “I can always change that.”


	10. The Lion's Way

The Lannisters shelved Tywin’s summons for their monthly meeting regarding Jaime’s investment portfolio. Tyrion looked over his brother’s money, often advising him and schooling him if not in the jargon but in the flow of money. Money was a language of its own, seemingly meandering and complicated. Patience and application unraveled its apparent secrets though it was always wise to be cautious and protective.

Jaime had Tyrion precede him to the study. Waiting a few seconds for Tyrion’s shuffle to soften the farther he went, he glanced at Brienne. She was on the couch, scrolling through her tablet while making notes on a pad. She sensed his eyes on her and she looked up. 

Her short hair was slicked back from her forehead, emphasizing the wild splash of freckles from her forehead down to where they were visible on her throat. She was really ugly, probably the ugliest woman he had ever laid eyes on. But his breath quickened as they met her unbelievably blue eyes, really the only thing beautiful about her. Never did he think that a large, crooked nose could be dear to him, or a wide mouth with thick, oft-swollen lips would look so sweet. She was wearing his old sweatshirt, jeans. Hardly provocative but he wanted her. Always wanted her. 

It wasn’t only that he wanted to fuck her all the time. He loved being near her, drawn to a soft light about her that she wasn’t aware about. There was something about Brienne that was warm and soothing despite her potty mouth and the scowl she was hardly without. Just as he would be happy to slurp from her cunt, he would feel the same just being in a room with her, as they were now.

“Are you okay?” They asked at the same time. He smiled as red spots formed from her cheeks. 

“It’s okay that Tyrion knows about us, right?” They hadn’t visited the topic since returning from the Vale. Brienne was a force to watch out for but at the heart of it, she tried to please people. He was a little hurt with her hesitancy about going public as she was thinking as his manager instead of his woman. But that was what he respected and another thing he loved about her. Brienne will never be told. 

“He will have to. At least,” and then she blushed, looking so red. “He didn’t just walk in while we were. . . I mean, we’re often—quite often. . .”

Ah, so she noticed their frequent fucking too. 

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“M-Mind?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Him knowing or that we fuck everywhere? Have fucked everywhere in this house.” She smirked.

 _Oh, yeah._ They’ve christened every flat surface of this place. Had even fucked her on the front steps one night, swallowing her grunts of pleasure as they came together. 

“No, I don’t. I just hope, well, you know how people can be. About us. Look at you. Then me.” 

Jaime shook his head. “For someone who’s quite the war freak when it comes to my career, you do care a great deal about what people think.” She was skittish, too self-conscious. Way worried. 

“I wouldn’t have them saying anything against you because of me.”

“I believe you will have no trouble stopping that yourself, wench.” He spoke with pride. Brienne’s ears reddened.

“You shouldn’t keep Tyrion waiting.” Brienne stood up and went to him. Her strong arms circled his shoulders and she kissed him quickly on the temple. He buried his nose against her shoulder, intoxicated as always by her natural, clean scent. 

“Jaime?” They were still hugging. “Can I say something?”

She pulled away, biting her full lower lip. He nodded.

“This thing about Tywin. I don’t want to interfere but you haven’t seen him for a long time. It was shitty of him to say that to you but he’s still your father.”

Jaime looked at her, seeing the uncertainty and worry in her face. Worried still about overstepping bounds, he thought. 

“He was probably just lashing out. If you can try to understand him? You are a better man than you think. I hope you’ll let him see that.”

“Wench, you give me too much credit.”

She laughed. “So you think.”

Then she kissed him. As soon as her soft lips were on him, he felt the floor tilt under his feet. He was grateful she would never know her effect on him. A smug Brienne would drive him insane. His cock was immediately hard at the idea and she jumped, startled. 

“Gods, Jaime.”

She was blushing heavily. He licked her warm cheek then sucked at her collarbone. With great reluctance, he removed himself from her.

“I have to go see my brother now,” he sounded disappointed.

“Have him stay for dinner.” Brienne told him. 

He smiled happily. “Really?”

“Of course.” She kissed him again. 

Dinner was shrimp carbonara, complemented with crisp white wine. Jaime suspected Brienne had gone to the store to buy the ingredients because he hadn’t done much shopping lately. Tyrion would be happy if she just ordered pizza, so the Lannister brothers were very appreciative of the delicious meal. Lemon sherbet was their dessert.

Jaime never thought things would be awkward now that he and Brienne were out but it was still a relief that she and Tyrion spoke as if nothing had changed. Tyrion shot Jaime a look from across the table, once again admonishing him for committing his entire share of the earnings from the record to Westeros Children’s Fund. “You’re lucky you’re rich,” he said.

“I have more than enough money for at least a couple of lifetimes,” Jaime waved his hand dismissively. He grinned at Brienne. “Please don’t murder me for insurance.”

“Hey, I’m not as rich as you boneheads,” Brienne bantered back, “but I’m not exactly destitute. Well, everyone compared to you is destitute.”

They shared a soft, tender look before turning their attention back to Tyrion. How right this felt. To be enjoying a delicious, home-cooked meal with his family, holding hands with the woman he loved under the table. Hells, he didn’t even dare imagine this years ago. If Brienne thought he was way out of her league, he was sure that he was completely undeserving of her. 

“So, how are the others taking your new pop venture?” Tyrion asked, sipping his wine. 

Jaime made his face bland and pleasant. “What do you think?”

“Where in the world is Loras Tyrell?” Tyrion suddenly demanded. “If there’s anyone they should be mad at, it’s him. I for one thinks it’s fucking bullshit to not reunite because of one fucking member. You Kingsguard and your vows. It’s like you’re a fucking sacred brotherhood or something.”

Brienne kissed Jaime on the neck and his knees quaked. “Don’t listen to him. While I don’t exactly approve, I understand loyalty.”

“How can I not love her?” Jaime said, squeezing her to his side. Tyrion made a gagging sound.

“You’re worse than teenagers,” he grumbled. 

“Fuck you,” Brienne told him. Tyrion laughed.

Tyrion’s car arrived for him an hour and a half later. The brothers hugged, Brienne kissed him on the cheek. He waved goodbye at them but reminded Jaime about Tywin before the window rolled up.

Jaime took care of the dishes while Brienne wiped the table clean. Hardly a word passed between them but neither was troubled about it. It was normal and domestic—comforting. Brienne kissed him on the cheek, telling him she was going to shower. Jaime stayed behind to lock up.

Since becoming a couple, they have spent almost every night together. They hardly got any sleep due to their mutual insatiable want. Jaime waited for Brienne in bed, his cock getting harder by the second. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she was wearing a robe and carried the scent of lemons around her. 

It took only a look. Blue eyes resting briefly on green. Then the robe was sliding down her shoulders. Jaime drank in her flushed skin, the pupils of her eyes getting dilated as she approached him. He flung the blanket away and met her, naked as she was, his skin warm while hers was cool. The sapphire studs winked from her tight nipples. Brienne settled on his lap, legs straddling him. Her muff was damp, cooling from being exposed, gradually approaching the heat of the furnace as her desire made her slick. Jaime let her tilt his chin up for a kiss—a kiss that was both a beginning and continuation of what they’ve always had.

There will be no end.

 

The day seemed to be without end. Fucking for three hours last night meant they were only able to sleep for a few hours before the alarm was rudely ringing. The morning show was the last for now, as well as his performance there. Then it was off to four radio stations for interviews. He would have a few hours’ rest after that before getting ready for another show.

Press tours were his least favorite part about the job. They were tedious and monotonous, with the same questions, the same studio. The same headphones when in radio stations. He changed out of his suit after another morning show—he couldn’t remember what it was—into a worn black t-shirt, black bomber jacket, jeans and sneakers for the upcoming radio interviews. Brienne too was dressed casually in a thick purple sweater that brought out the blue of her eyes, jeans and dark brown booties.  
After two radio shows, Jaime was struggling from yawning. Brienne got him coffee, double-shot espresso, so he could soldier through the last show before taking a break for The Night’s Watch with Edd and the Late, Late Show much later tonight. 

The limo pulled up at the radio station with Jaime feeling very alert and excited. Partly due to coffee, partly for the show. It was Rockstorm with Robert Fury, the only decent radio show in Westeros that devoted two hours to rock music. Brienne cautioned Jaime that he was likely to get attacked for his recent choices.

“A stag’s horns have nothing against my claws and fangs,” he said firmly.

“Good afternoon, Westeros and welcome to Rockstorm with Robert Fury,” came the smooth, raspy voice of Robert Baratheon. He was tall, handsome with black hair and navy blue eyes. “Today’s guest has recently undergone an interesting career shift and we, the gods of rock, are here to question the Kingslayer himself. Jaime Lannister in the house, roar!”

Recorded applause and cheers played through the waves. Jaime’s stare was calm as Robert readied to interrogate him. He actually rubbed his palms together.

“Explain yourself, Kingslayer!” He demanded with a boisterous laugh.

“Kingslayers don’t answer to commands,” Jaime drawled. From behind the booth, Brienne crossed her arms tightly on her chest. 

“We thought you lost your balls somewhere, Jaime,” Robert said. “Alright. You have this new song out and, wait for it, it’s not effin’ rock! It’s effin’ pop! What the hell, man?”

Jaime met Brienne’s stare. He was looking at her past Robert’s broad frame. “I sense a question somewhere there.”

“You’re doing an effin’ remake of a song so bad it’s actually good cheese. Why?”

“As I’ve been saying, artists should constantly evolve. That means experimenting. You have to open yourself to new ideas, new ways of doing things. Else you and your talent get stagnant.”

“Do you mean to say Kingsguard is over?” 

“If we are, you’d be the first to know.”

“What do they have to say about this betrayal, Kingslayer?”

“I owe a lot of things to Kingsguard. Let’s make that clear. But we respect each other’s individuality and choices. Rhaegar is in The Band—“

“A travesty to rock bands!”

“---and he appears to enjoy mentoring the kids. We’re off doing our own things. We’re a group but we’re still separate.”

Jaime was familiar with Robert’s style. He was brash and rude, delivering comments and questions in ways meant to incite and provoke. Despite the coffee, he was calm, almost zen-like. He smiled as Robert frowned.

“When is Kingsguard getting back together?”

“You know, I can’t really answer that for now. What I can tell you more about is my current single. It’s out and I hope people like it.”

“Only philistines like it, Kingslayer.”

“I don’t think we should antagonize people just because they have different tastes.”

“The Kingslayer has spoken,” Robert said mockingly.

“Well,” Jaime shrugged benignly.

“Alright. I’ll ask about that mother-effin’ song, Jaime. What. Were You Thinking. That’s the question in everyone’s mind. Gods, Kingslayer, you’re like, the rock god. Like, if that old bear Jorah Mormont goes the torch is passed to you. Why did you do this?”

“First, as flattering as it is to be considered as someone second to Jorah Mormont, I don’t see myself as such. He will always be the god, no matter what. I’m honored people think I can but there are others just as good, even better. As to why I did this song, again, it’s all about trying new things. I am categorically denying that rock music is dead. What I would like to say in response to your question is I want to make a comeback. I did things that made people hesitant in making deals with me. I understand. This is the only choice available to me. I took it. I’d like to think I made the best of it but you be the judge.”

He fought back a smirk at Robert’s dumfounded expression. He had expecting Jaime to explode. He nodded and scrambled for something to say. “Uh, okay. That’s well said.”

“I’d like to take this opportunity to remind everyone that every download and purchase of the single goes to Westeros Children’s Fund. Winterfest is in four weeks. Let’s do more than our share for the children by giving them a happy Winterfest.”

 

 

An hour before Night’s Watch with Edd, Jaime was in the green room getting ready. He wore a black shirt to go with the pale gray suit. Right now, tissue was tucked around the collar as make-up was applied to him.

“Wench, when you hired this young man for tonight, were you thinking of me or yourself?” He joked as primer was put on his face. 

“He’s joking,” Brienne told the make-up artist. “His name is Gendry. He usually does make-up for horror films.”

“Really,” Jaime grinned at him. “Will you be putting fake blood on me? Fangs? Eyeballs hanging out?”

Gendry chuckled. “If you want.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Brienne said, getting back to the magazine she was reading.

With the way Pia had behaved, Brienne was more than happy to limit her services and hire Gendry Waters. At least he wouldn’t be flirting with Jaime. Even if he did, nothing would come from it. She didn’t doubt that Jaime would be faithful to her but Pia gave the impression of forcing things to happen her way. How her eyes had eaten up Jaime hungrily, despite his obvious boredom with her. 

“So, you’re singing tonight?” Gendry asked Jaime.

“Unfortunately,” Jaime answered. 

“It’s a nice version,” Gendry remarked. “It’s my favorite song.”

“Aw, man. You shouldn’t have told me that.” Jaime pretended to complain, drawing a laugh from him.

Brienne grinned and crossed her legs as she flipped a page on the magazine. Though Jaime was sitting back, it didn’t escape his notice the way Gendry gave her legs a look. She was wearing a long-sleeved black dress with a high neckline and a skirt inches above the knee. It was a demure dress until she turned around to show off her bare back. But the clear highlight were her legs, endless, ivory pins scattered with pink freckles. Jaime frowned and Gendry turned back to him.

“Don’t frown or the make-up will be uneven.”

Brienne, blissfully unaware of what was going on, continued to read. She would glance at them from time to time. 

Gendry worked quickly and efficiently. He had plucked some stray hairs between Jaime’s brows and kept the make-up minimal instead of piling it on as Pia did. When he finished, it was fifteen minutes before Jaime was to go on. Gendry was to stay for touch-ups.

Done, he excused himself and asked if he could go out for a cigarette. Brienne nodded. There was still time. She was still reading when the door closed, reading some more so she didn’t notice right away that Jaime was standing and glowering at her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

Jaime glared at the door. “Is he gay or straight?”

Confused, she demanded, “Does it matter?”

“I don’t like the way he was staring at your legs.”

“How sure are you it was my legs? For all we know, it could be my shoes.”

“Oh.” Jaime gave her an apologetic kiss and sat down beside there.

“You okay?” Brienne put away the magazine and turned to him. She played with the a lock of his hair. 

“I can think of a much better place where I’d rather be,” Jaime then dropped his hand on her lap for emphasis. She blushed as it slipped between her thighs, his fingers brushing her curls. They groaned together. “Fuck you, Brienne. You really had to pick tonight of all nights not to wear underwear. I have another show after this.”

“You know I don’t wear underwear,” she gasped, torn between yanking his marauding fingers away and letting herself be fucked by them. Her eyes widened as she squeaked when he suddenly pinched her clit. “Gods.”

“You said sometimes you don’t.” 

As he spoke, he slipped to his knees before her. Brienne shook her head, looking anxiously at the door. Jaime kissed her on the knee draped her legs over his shoulders.

“You’ll deny me a taste, wench?”

“Someone might come in,” she whispered as he peeled her skirt back, rubbing his lips and cheeks on her inner thighs. She trembled, fingers digging in the leather seat. “J-Jaime.”

She wailed as his tongue circled her clitoris, going on an on as his hands skimmed up and down her hard thighs. He sucked the swollen nub, licked it, kissed it, before smooshing his mouth deeper inside her cunt. Her hips thrust as he lipped the sensitive inner lips, grunted when his tongue fucked her. Her hands climbed to her tits, cupping them, pinching her nipples through the cloth. She wasn’t wearing her piercings tonight.

She came with a cry, followed by a wet, squirting sound then Jaime’s desperate, greedy lapping. His tongue and lips dragged her  
orgasm until her hips rose off the sofa. 

Her heart was still racing when she heard Jaime stand up, followed by the sound of a zipper. Eagerly, she pulled his hips toward her, her mouth opening as his hard, thick cock approached. She sucked on the plump cockhead, moaning, rubbing him with her hands. Above, Jaime pushed her hair away from her face, watching as she let him fuck her mouth.

He gasped he was close and tightened the embrace of her mouth. Her eyes closed as she felt the hard gush of his come hitting the back of her throat, flooding her mouth. She sucked him wetly, loving his unique taste and how he held her tighter. She lapped up the last drop and pulled back, eyes watery and her mouth slick and swollen. She ran her tongue up his navel and kissed him there before smiling at him dazedly.

His gaze was loving, a thumb wiping a thread of semen from the corner of her mouth. “I knew I was right to call you wench.”

She zipped him up and Jaime sat back down. She lowered her skirt and collapsed on the sofa. 

“What’s my day going to be like tomorrow?” He asked. 

“You get some rest.” She assured him. “But only after a morning show then we have our meeting with Westeros Children’s Fund in the afternoon. Plus, another late night show.”

“You mean I’ll be spending the day with the children? That sounds like fun,” Jaime agreed.

Brienne bit her lip. “Not exactly. It’s the board. They want you to be their spokesperson given your. . .generosity. That’s what the meeting is about.”

Jaime made a face. “Oh, please. Wench, I have no problem giving help or being affiliated with them. But what do spokespersons do? You know what kids would appreciate? Someone who’s there for them. They don’t give a fuck about who the spokesperson is. They just want someone who’ll be there and treat them right.”

Brienne couldn’t stop the purr rising her from her throat and she kissed him on the cheek. “Jaime, sometimes I wonder when you’ll stop being adorable.” They held hands and she rested her chin on his shoulder. “Let me see if I can shorten the meeting so you can meet and spend time with the kids. You’re right. They’re what matter.”

“It would be better if it’s Kingsguard,” he said wistfully. A flash of sadness passed his face. She brought his hand to her lips.  
The disbandment hurt Jaime deeper than he realized himself. He put up the band and was close friends with them all. He refused to speak any more about Stannis’ gift. Brienne can understand. Jaime had a lot of pride and didn’t like admitting pain. Like a lion, he fought through it, lashing and snarling at everyone who dared bring it up. 

“You are far better than you’ll ever know, Jaime,” she told him honestly.

They were holding hands when a PA peeked in and ran them through the program. After she left, the host, Edd Tollett, came in.  
Edd was skinny and short, with long, thin dark hair and a receding hairline. He was not handsome and had the expression of one who had barely escaped a catastrophe. His dark eyes lit up as he and Jaime shook hands.

“Haven’t seen you in a long time, Jaime,” he said. “Glad you’re back.”

“Well, that makes one of you,” Jaime responded.

“Ah, fuck them. So the song isn’t your usual style. Big deal. You still sound like a fucking lion. Doesn’t he?” Edd grinned at Brienne. “You look great, Brienne. I knew you were too good for that fucking Martell.”

Brienne laughed. “Well. I’m shutting up about that.”

“Normally, I would be turned on by that, but with you, Brienne, I’ve always liked you feisty. Bloody hells, that’s the only kind of Brienne I like,” Edd joked. 

“Shut up.”

“Anyway, get over here, Jaime. I’m glad you’re back,” Edd opened his arms and Jaime bent to hug him. “I don’t care what you sing, you fucker. Just as long as you sound phenomenal. I’ll see you out there.”

Ten minutes into the program, the PA arrived to guide Jaime out of the green room. Brienne followed them but took a different doorway towards the end so she could sit with the audience. A seat had been reserved for her in front.

“The Kingslayer, everybody!” Edd exclaimed. A lively rendition of Rains of Castamere from the live band began to play as Jaime emerged, grinning and looking like a god. Brienne felt a thrill at the realization that he was her boyfriend, that she fucked him.  
And boy, did she love the man.

Jaime and Edd stood smiling and waving at the audience before they dashed off to their seats. Edd’s was behind a desk, Jaime on the couch. The cheers continued, with one woman from the audience shrieking, “I love you, Jaime!”

Brienne laughed as Jaime tried to look for the woman. “Thank you.”

“What a reception. You’ve been missed!” Edd told Jaime.

“Really?” Jaime grinned at the audience. 

Everyone roared.

“Or they’re high,” Edd said.

“Must be.”

“Well, I am happy to see you, Jaime. You’ve been gone too long. How are things?”

The two men engaged in small talk, peppered with a lot of jokes and witticisms. Jaime was perfect. He looked handsome with a rough, sexy edge in his tailored Tobho Mott suit, blond hair nearly brushing his shoulders and his scruff. He was friendly and engaging, relaxed for the first time since they began storming the shows. But as happy as Brienne was for him, she tensed when Edd steered the conversation to Winterfest Is All Around.

“Oh, man. You’re really going to ask me about that,” Jaime pretended to grimace.

“I’m being paid, my friend. It’s all work. The friendship ends at this point,” Edd said exaggeratedly. 

“You led me on.”

“I didn’t want to. I had to.”

“Man, the only one I trust these days is my girlfriend.”

“You don’t say.” Edd looked genuinely surprised. “Tell us about her.”

Jaime smiled at Brienne. She blushed.

“She’s the best.”

“You sound like a man in love.”

“Do I? Well, you would know. You just got married, didn’t you?”

_That’s it, Jaime. Smooth. Turn the attention away from your personal life._

“Well, yes. It’s wonderful. Is it happening anytime soon for you and the lady?”

Jaime chuckled. “You know what I can answer?”

“What?”

“Any question about my new single.”

Edd laughed and the audience applauded, laughing along. Brienne clapped too.

“Alright. I’ll comply. You have a new record.” Edd reached under the table and pulled out the CD case for Winterfest Is All Around. It had a photo of Jaime’s profile in black and white. “Tell us about it.”

“It’s a cover of Love Is All Around. But, in accordance to the season, it’s Winterfest All Around.”

“You know, the song is really good. And I’m surprised with the High Valyrian version. Do you speak the language?”

“Not that well. So thank you.”

Another disarming smile that sent the audience wild.

“Now, Jaime will be performing in a bit, guys. Hold on to your panties. But I hear that all your earnings from the sales would be donated to the Westeros Children’s Fund?”

“You got that right. For every download and record purchase, you’re giving the awesome kids there a Winterfest they’ll remember.”

“Of course, so that the donations will be bigger, it will be great if the record hits number one, won’t it?”

“That's, like, yeah. Wow. That’s going to be something great, I tell you. Yeah. But number one or not, I stand by my word. But it’s better if it’s at the top or close to it so we can give the children more.”

“Gods, Jaime, bad enough that the gods gave you all the good looks. Now you’re making me look bad,” Edd said, but he was smiling. “But I have to ask. Is there anything you would do if your single hits number one?”

Brienne frowned. Jaime, still relaxed, asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, aside from the donation, is there anything you’re willing to do in return for our generosity in helping the record reach number one and giving more to the children?”

Jaime frowned for a few seconds then burst into an ear-splitting grin. His emerald eyes shone

“If Winterfest Is All Around hits number one,” he said, pausing dramatically. “I will. . . perform the song stark naked on TV.”

**Author's Note:**

> The name Wolfboyz should give you an idea who's in it :-)


End file.
